Fool's Gold
by Merc the Jerk
Summary: In an alternate universe, the gang find themselves in desperate need of money, fast. With no other options, they begin a game of blood and violence, for the sake of the world. *Part 2, Diamond in the Rough, now ongoing*
1. The Heist

The streets were empty when Isabelle rolled her car into a handicapped parking lot square by the bank. She took a breath, scratching at her rose-colored nose stud as she stared at the building. The athletic girl was scared shitless-she wouldn't admit it, but it was true. Things were about to get wild.

"Ya alright, sugar?" one of her passengers drawled out. Jack reached across the armrest and gave Dash's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"Y-yeah. I'm frosty. Ready to get this shit on," Dash lied. There was a small click of static as the earpiece she wore came to life.

"Testing, testing. One, two, three," Spike said. "How do I sound?"

"Like a little angel, darling!" Rarity proclaimed from the back seat. Spike chortled quietly over the line, then coughed, trying at least to sound professional.

Twila's mouth twitched into a near smile as she marked a checklist in her head, going over everything that needed to be done in order for this to go on without a hitch.

"W-well, I suppose we know why we're here and what needs to be done, right?" Spike asked, doing his best to be in command.

"G-get in. Get the money. A-and get to the escape car," Chylene whispered, twirling a small lock of her hair as she sat in the back seat. She reached behind her and grabbed a large metal case. The quiet woman checked the clasps, flipping them open and closed repeatedly as she nervously stared at the bank.

"There's more to it than that," Spike corrected. "I have a contact on the inside. He's agreed to help us out."

"Spikie's branching out! He's got contacts, and aliases, and popcorn, and _plans_!" an excited Diane listed, counting on her fingers. She paused, adjusting the pink poof she called her hair. "Uh, what is the plan, exactly?"

The group could hear Spike put his palm to his face. "Ok," he slowly started. "We separate into two teams, Brawn and Brain. Brawn is in charge of controlling the lobby and the civilians. Brain is responsible for meeting my contact in the employee break room. He'll inform you how to approach the vault. Team Brawn is going to be Pinkie, Dash and Jack. Brain is Chylene, Twila, and Rarity." He took a breath. "Once you put on your masks and open the car doors, I'm calling the mission underway. Remember, we're sticking to codenames once we're out the car-in case we have some ears listening in. Everyone, sound off your codenames."

"Stetson," Jack grunted, taking off her signature hat and placing it on the dashboard. She glanced over a white synthetic mask with a trio of apples on its cheek. With a world-weary sigh, she slipped it over her face and donned a pair of gloves.

"Books," Twila said, flexing her covered hands before grabbing her own mask-this one adorned with three purple starbursts.

"Shouda been 'Egghead.'" Dash grinned, happily ignoring the brief glare the studious woman gave her. "Oh, right. Uh, Bolt reporting in," the athlete added as an afterthought. Her mask went on, bearing a rainbow colored lightning bolt.

"Party!" Pinkie exclaimed. Her bubbly personality fell slightly. "Can't believe we're doing this," she said, a rare serious thought escaping her lips beneath the three pink balloons on her mask.

"Mouse here. And I-I wish we didn't have to, Diane, but it's the o-only way we're going to have enough money t-to... you know..." Chylene said, hiding deeper into her pink hair. After another moment's hesitation, she pulled on a mask marked with three yellow butterflies.

"I cannot believe we're condoning something so barbaric," Rarity bemoaned. "Robbing banks is one thing, but hiring those... brutes?"

"Hush now, _Gems_. Ya know why we're payin' 'em. Jus' somethin' we're gonna have ta deal with," Jack snapped back.

"Fine, but did you _really_ have to pick disguises that are just so... just so... dull?" she said, adding her own triple amethyst tagged mask, hers of a slightly higher quality. Rarity gave a distasteful shake of her head and reached into the pocket of her low-cut dress. She pulled out a semi-automatic pistol from one pocket, and a silencer from the other. As she screwed the pieces together, the beauty checked its clip. Eight shots.

"Ok, Drake. We'll be ready in sixty seconds," Twila said, readjusting her mask. One by one, the others got ready.

"Kevlar?" the former librarian asked.

"Never leave home without it," Dash quipped, tapping her chest.

"Guns?"

"_Guns_?" Jack repeated, her tone suggesting she was smirking. "We got guns comin' out the _ass_," the blonde replied, tilting her head towards the trunk of the car. She gave her hat a tap with a finger-a gesture she hoped would bring good luck.

"Supplies?"

"I... I have a medkit. I hope we don't have to use it," Chylene said in her quiet, thoughtful way, clutching the briefcase as if it was a talisman against evil.

In a way, it was exactly that.

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Make sure to exhale when you're taking a long shot," Twila advised.

"I-I know."

"If no one has any complaints or reasons to turn back now, we're starting in thirty seconds. Get a move on," Spike replied.

Dash shook her head, taking deep, calming breaths as she squeezed the life out of the driver's wheel.

"It'll be ok, sugar," Jack quietly said, putting an arm around Dash's shoulders. "I'll keep an eye out fer ya."

"I... I know you will," Isabelle said, far more gently than she was used to. She straightened that slip-up out in an instant. "But let's drop the sappy act-we've _got_ this."

"Ten seconds," Spike warned. Everyone sitting at a window seat grabbed hold of their door handles.

"Five."

Pinkie seemed almost overjoyed for it to start. She gave a disbelieving look to all the well-dressed woman in the car with her. "This is like a dream I had once!" she chirped. "Except there was less of a dress code and I was a lobster! I-"

"Mission's a go!" Spike commanded. The group shot out in an instant; four gave one last, intense look at the building while Dash and Jack ran to the trunk of the car to get the guns.

"Let's get this party started," Pinkie said, sounding both nervous and a little excited. The adrenaline was kicking in already.

The bank was a two story affair. The lobby they were quickly preparing to enter was lined with rows of glass windows, showcasing over a dozen civilians waiting patiently in line, none aware of what was approaching.

"Break room's on the second floor. There's a stairway in a room to the right," Spike commented.

"We're on it, Drake," Twila replied. Jack and Dash arrived, each carrying a large duffel bag.

"We ain't hurtin' nobody that don't deserve it," Jack ordered, adjusting the holster she kept at her breast.

"You don't have to remind us, Stetson, we know. You've said it like twenty times now. No civvies," Dash answered. She felt the reassuring weight of her berettas dragging her suit jacket down. "Let's do this."

"Um...S-Stetson?" Chylene asked quietly, "What if they decide to f-fight back...?"

Jack didn't have an answer for that. "We take it as it comes to us, Mouse. Best I can say." Chylene nodded at the answer but she wasn't entirely satisfied with it. The farmer reached for the door, sucking in a breath as she pushed inward. A single bank teller looked up at their arrival, her mouth formed a silent 'O' of surprise, and she sucked in a breath, preparing to scream.

Stetson quickly reached into her holster, pointing her revolver towards the ceiling. With an almost lazy gesture, she cocked back the massive iron piece and fired a single bullet.

As the shot roared across the lobby, panic ensued as a flurry of screams graced the women's ears. Several began to run in half-crouches across the lobby, and several tellers hid behind their large mahogany desks.

_"Get down, motherfuckers!_" Isabelle bellowed, tossing her duffel bag to her side and drawing out her nine millimeters in each hand. "_Down on the motherfucking ground!_"

"We're just making a withdrawal!" Pinkie chirped, contrasting with Dash's authoritative shouts.

Yer lucky we're not at home. I'd make ya put a quarter in the swear jar, Jack thought wryly. She pointed her gun across the flinching civilians. Each seemed to draw a terrified breath as her barrel swept across the masses. "Ain't nobody needs ta get hurt, alright? Jus' keep calm an' don't do anythin' dumb."

"Too late on the 'dumb,' Stetson," Spike replied after a beat. "Just saw that a silent alarm's been triggered. I cut the signal as soon as I could, but it still got through. Cops'll be there soon. ETA ten minutes."

"Already?" Jack snarled. "Damn it!_ Unbelievable_."

"Shit." Dash swore under her breath, gritting her teeth and tightening her hold on her weapons. "We better make this quick then or we'll be in the doghouse quicker than you can say 'oh shit'."

"Yeah, I hear ya. Party! Bolt! On me! Zipties!" Jack quickly ordered, gesturing at the civilians. "Tie 'em up. I'll get the duffel's unzipped!" The farmer pointed east. "Books, Gems, Mouse, upstairs!"

After the order had been sounded, Dash and Pinkie were quick to go up to Jack. The farmer tossed them a package she had in her jacket pocket and opened one of the duffel bags. She withdrew a sawed-off shotgun and checked the two rounds inside. Without any hesitation, she shoved shell after shell into her pocket, along with a handful of rounds for her revolver. Lastly, she reached inside and grabbed an empty, crumpled backpack. She slung it over her shoulders.

"Party, I'll zip, you suit up," Jack called out, returning to the civilians. Across the lobby, to their left, Jack noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A guard was peeking into the lobby from the archway, pistol drawn and at the ready. He was quick-the man ducked low and aimed straight for Diane.

Jack was quicker.

A bullet ripped from her fifty caliber, slamming into the guard's throat amid a torrent of screams from the civilians lying prone on the ground. He collapsed to the bloodstained floor, dead instantly.

Pinkie stared at her now dead attacker, her hands trembling slightly. She nodded at Jack as a thanks, then opened up the gym bag, getting out a P90 for herself. Following this, she also picked up a backpack and slung that on.

Then she grabbed some zipties and set about cuffing the civilians. Most of them were silent, except a man in a blue suit.

"Bastards," he muttered coldly at Diane.

"It's for a good cause, trust me," she replied reassuringly.

"Sure. Sure it is."

Pinkie opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. She was glad that she had a mask on now; it obscured her sad face. The man said no more, not resisting Pinkie's efforts. Once he was cuffed she stood up and looked at Dash, who had just finished cuffing another person.

"We're good," Isabelle stated, nodding at Pinkie and Jack.

"Maker help us all," Jack said darkly, empathy rattling her stomach on seeing the pool of blood slowly expanding past the guard's body. She did her best to squelch the hurt-there'd be time to grieve later. What mattered now was making sure the poor bastard didn't die in vain. She jammed a finger to her ear. "Books, we've got the civvies tied up and a dead guard in the lobby. What's yer end lookin' like?"

There was a measured, but hard swear before Twila's reply of, "Well, that didn't take long." _And it looks a lot like I'm taking a big important test, but don't know the subject, or even if I'll be able to read it or..._ She shook her head, returning to her outward calm focus, and instead said, "We should be nearing the break room; one more corner, according to Drake-stupid design to put it behind all the offices, if you ask me. The time wasted by-"

She was cut off by a gunshot hitting the wall near her, causing her to reflexively jump back, pulling her two compatriots back with her. Rarity screamed and began to complain when another pair of gunshots rang out from down the hall. The trio scooted behind the corner, Chylene shaking in fear as she had never felt before.

"Books! Report! Are you ok?" came the worried drawl of Jack at the same time as Spike's, "Tw-I mean, Books! Talk to me!"

"I'm fine," she said calmly, though her breath came a little faster. Though her insides were broiling, she'd convinced herself to never break on the outside-that was the only way she could commit such a terrible act and not go mad, she had told herself. "There must have been a guard or two in the break room when we started. They're holding their position down the hall, taking shots of opportunity if we so much as show a hair."

Chylene began crying out, quietly to herself, "I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home..."

Dash put a finger to her ear. "Aw, Mouse...we can't back out of this now. We just gotta do it...try not to think too much. It helps."

"So business as usual for you, then, right Bolt?" Twila said, all cool confidence. She examined the panicking young woman and saw nothing of immediate concern. "Mouse, get a hold of yourself. You must think this through logically: if you check out now, and one of us gets hurt, what's going to happen?"

Chylene slowly looked into Twila's face, the horrors of her friends' injury or even death playing through her mind. And worse: of it being her fault. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, taking big breaths of air and swallowing a dozen times before nodding and getting back up to her feet. "I'm ready, I can _do_ this!" she said quietly, but emphatically.

Twila nodded and turned back to the problem at hand. A solution instantly presented itself. "Deploying a flashbang. Gems, be ready to take point. Try and disable, not kill," she said the last word with extra emphasis, thinking of the Brawn team. Removing one, she pulled the pin and counted off a moment before tossing it down the hall. All three of the would-be criminals held their eyes and ears closed. There was the sound of a gunshot, a cry of, "Oh shi-" before the stun grenade went off, sending out its bright flash and sharp sound.

Immediately, just as they had practiced, Rarity quickly stepped into the hallway, scanning for the hostiles. As expected, the comparatively untrained security guards had fallen to the ground, holding their eyes closed, their firearms dropped to the ground in the process. Rarity had no desire to shoot either guard-though in their practice, her marksmanship had been rather impressive, attributed to her fine eye to detail and steady hand from years of needlework-so she quickly kicked away the two weapons and turned her own against them.

"You'll regain your sight in about three to five seconds. When you do so, please come up slowly, hands behind your head. Allow us to restrain you and you won't be harmed," she commanded quickly, aiming her gun at a space equidistant between the two.

Back in the main room, Dash was peering out of the windows. "Won't be long now..." she turned to Jack, "What's next?"

"That guard came from the other room. Bolt, with me. Party, keep an eye out on the hostages," the farmer promptly replied. "How much time we got, Drake?"

"Looking at eight and a half minutes. Warning you guys ahead of time-they're not pulling any punches. They're pulling in a SWAT group."

"Not unexpected," said Twila. "Standard procedure for any hostage situation involving armed criminals." Chylene let out a pained whimper.

Spike paused. "Actually, I've been listening in on their radio's. They haven't mentioned anything about hostages-the cops have just been instructed to make sure the cash doesn't get grabbed. Weirdest damn thing."

"Sounds 'bout right fer our 'illustrious leader,'" Jack said crossly, glancing once more at the corpse on the floor. "Doesn't care 'bout the people, jus' has ta make sure her goodies don't get snatched away."

Dash rolled her eyes upon receiving the news. "Great. Just fucking great," she started to head to the room where the guard came from, "Come on, Stetson."

"Be careful you two." Pinkie said, keeping her eyes on the civilians. "I'll make sure I'm the only one doing any funny business around here." She giggled slightly.

Jack loaded two more bullets into her revolver's chamber and leaned against the wall by the archway. She nodded over to Isabelle, and quickly ducked into the room, gun at the ready.

There was a young guard to her left on the other side of the wall-only a few years Spike's senior. Sweat caked his face as he held a pistol up with both trembling hands. Jack felt her trigger finger instinctively twitch, but restrained herself. He was just a kid.

Shit.

"Drop it," she ordered. His trembling increased, his finger nervously fumbled towards the trigger-Jack couldn't wait anymore. The tall woman took a few steps strides forward and twisted to the side just as the boy finally regained his composure enough to fire. The blast deafened her ear-she retaliated by twisting the gun free from his hand and pistol whipping him in the temple. He groaned, weakly clutching at his welting and bleeding.

"On yer knees," the farmer hissed. He groggily complied, still limply trying to clutch his injured head. "Cuff yerself," she instructed. The guard meekly reached behind himself. Jack held the gun in his face until she heard a satisfying 'click.'

She took a breath and examined the room. There were a few offices to her right, windows behind her and on the ceiling, and straight ahead was a metal grating that sealed off a hallway leading deeper into the bank.

"Grating like that? Bet it's leadin' ta paydirt," Jack said. "Bolt, check the offices, I'mma take a gander at our little problem here."

Dash nodded and wasted no time in trying to be subtle. She kicked the office door's open and messily searched through them. On occasion there was a terrified worker, who she promptly handcuffed.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Chylene had administered a sedative to keep the now-tied guards groggy. With Rarity taking point, Twila reported, "Coming up the break room. Time?"

"Six," Spike said.

"Then we're ahead of schedule, excellent. Opening the door now-anything I should know about your contact, Drake?" she asked the young man over the radio.

"Only that he wants the tyrant taken down as much as we do, Tw-Books," he corrected. "Though he didn't complain too much when I promised him ten percent of our pull-in here."

Rarity _tsked_. "Well, at least we can afford it. Some people will really do anything for money. Anyways, coast is clear, Books. On your mark."

Twila nodded, gripping the door handle tightly, some of her inner nervousness exerting itself. "Three... Two... One... Mark!" she called, opening the door quickly. Rarity immediately swung in, bringing her weapon to bear left, then right.

The break room was moderately sized, with a large table in the center, a couch against one wall, and a couple recliners. An ash tray-well used-and a water cooler completed the image.

A man sat next to the water cooler. He nervously regarded them with gray eyes as he took a puff of a cigarette. "Gunshots already?" he asked, battling with his crumpled tie as if his life depended on it. "Plan still going, or are we fucked?"

Despite herself, Twila rolled her eyes. "We are hardly 'fucked'," she said, the harsh word a little clumsy to her tongue. "The plan easily accounted for the bank's security personnel. We're at five minutes before SWAT arrives."

"And they're not playing particularly fair, it seems," added Rarity.

"Celestia's own haven't played fair for some time now," the man replied, scowling. He stuffed out his smoke and stood, walking towards the three. "So, Drake tells me you three need inside the vault. I think I can help you-hell, I _know_ I can help you."

"We best make this quick then, 'Mystery'." Rarity gave the man a sly smirk before looking out of the room and into the hallway.

"I would have prefered 'Deep Throat,' but Drake vetoed it," he said, returning the slight smile. "Ok, let's get to business. My uncle was one of the men who built the vault-there's a weakness in its foundation. All you need is a little dab of C4 and you'll be able to get the door open without a hitch."

"Why on earth would your uncle leave a weakness in its design?" Twila asked.

"The vault's fairly old, despite the new security systems around it. It intentionally had a weakness in the concrete that could be broken open with a sledgehammer in case the inner door became faulty while someone was inside. He was a cautious man..." He glanced at the women as he handed Twila a map of the vault doors. "Just like me. We're straight that I'm getting ten percent, right?"

Twila nodded. "As agreed. We're bank robbers, not swindlers. Did you read all that, Stetson?"

"Loud an' clear, Books," the farmer said.

The speaker in Twila's ear crackled to life once more. "Not to hurry you guys, but there's a cop car arriving earlier than I expected. I _think_ he's a beat cop that was closer than the main force. He's holding back right now, but it's something to be aware of."

"Not a pig!" Pinkie whined, her voice coming out of everyone's speakers. Back in the main room, she ran to the windows and hid underneath them, peering out like a meerkat now and then.

"Party, that's very rude," Rarity said, checking back down the hallway leading out of the break room. "We're still clear, Books. I'd say we move before we overstay our welcome. Besides, that nasty cigar smoke is working absolute terror on my skin, I just know it."

Twila nodded, turning to Chylene. "Mouse, stick with Mystery. He's the VIP right now and must be protected. Brain, move out!"

With Mystery and Chylene leading, the group went quickly but carefully back down the halls, encountering no issues. When they reached the stairs heading back down, Twila spoke into her mic again. "Stetson, Bolt-how's containment?"

"We're square here-had a few more chips to add to the pile in the offices," Dash replied.

"Party's been with the people. I'm jus' tryin' ta get this grating off." Jack wiped her palms on the seat of her pants as she craned her neck, popping it. From one of the windows, on a neighboring rooftop, a small, faint gleam briefly twinkled across her vision. Thinking nothing of it, she returned to her work. "I jus' 'bout got it." With one more heaving yank upward, she heard a pop as the latch gave way and she threw the shutters upward.

In the distance, sirens were audible to everyone's ears.

"Girls! Hurry!" Spike frantically called. "Less than a minute!"

"Don't worry, Spike. Got that damn grating open. We've got smooth sailin' n-"

She was silenced by the thunder of a rifle blast. Jack glanced down, noting a trail of blood leaking from a hole just below her collarbone. Kevlar or not, it wasn't designed to take a bullet of that caliber. With a glance towards Dash, she slumped forward, collapsing hard onto her stomach.

The group was stunned, but Spike finally managed a squeaky, "Stetson! Stetson, do you copy? Report, damn it!"

"S-She's breathing. Fuck. Oh... oh fuck. She's _gotta_ be breathing still, right?!" Dash asked, her voice cracking.

"Everyone, calm down and get the_ hell_ over there, _someone_!" Twila cried, taking control. She turned to Chylene. "Change of plans, go back Bolt or Party up, whoever gets there first. Keep Stetson alive."

"Fuckin' wait!" Dash called out suddenly, gesturing towards the shattered window. "That sniping son of a bitch has got to still be watching her. He knows she's still alive! Any one of us takes a step towards that window, and _we_ are_ fucked_!"

The sirens grew to a painful crescendo as the group stood, paralyzed by indecision.

"Guys, they're here!" Pinkie cried out to everyone, "I'll try to keep them back. Just get to J-" she halted, preventing herself from rhyming, "Stetson!"

With that, she smashed open the window above her with the butt of her gun and took a quick look before ducking back to cover again. A horde of SWAT vans and cop cars had amassed outside of the bank. Police were getting out of their cars and getting guns out of the boots, whilst SWAT squads exited from the back of the big, black vans.

They were rather grouped up, so now was the perfect opportunity to confuse them, if only for a short time. Pinkie grabbed a frag grenade attached to her belt and took in a deep breath before pulling the pin. "Alright then, you pigs, let me hear you squeal! Hyaaaaaaaaah!" she yelled before tossing out the frag.

The officers saw it land and desperately tried to get away from it, but for some, it was too late. The explosion knocked some officers off their feet and even nearly knocked a car over. Pinkie didn't expect it to kill anyone, but what she _had_ hoped for was for them to split up, which they had. She rose up and started taking shots at the forces; it wasn't long before they started firing back. The force had been thrown into chaos and were attempting to restore some order, but Pinkie's suppressive fire wasn't exactly helpful in that regard. The civilians who had gathered screamed in terror, not helping Pinkie keep her cool. Luckily, the adrenaline was starting to pump into her system.

Dash licked her lips. Narrowed her brows. She swallowed hard. "Fuck. I-I'm goin' for it."

Twila glanced to the athlete. "But you just sai-"

"I know what I said, Goddamnit. But I'm not leaving without her!" she snapped back.

Isabelle crouched low, entering a runner's stance. She pressed down hard on her hands, trying to stop their violent shaking. "One..." Her breathing intensified. "Two..."

_Jack shifted under the covers of her bed as the red glow of morning began to peek through her room's curtains. For a brief, fleeting moment, she resisted the need to rise, instead tightening her grip around the well-toned stomach of Dash. The athlete let out a small grunt, but remained asleep despite Jack's best efforts._

_The farmer kissed the back of Isabelle's neck and rose, stretching out her nude body and moving to the chest of drawers in the corner. After getting halfway presentable, she made her way across the hallway and entered the bathroom._

_Jack was surprised that she was the first one awake-usually Mac was up and fixing breakfast by the time she left her room. As she washed her face off and gurgled a glass of water, she glanced out the bathroom window and froze, a trail of water leaking out her mouth at the sight._

_There. On the horizon. The tell-tale sign of smoke gave away what the glimmering light really was._

_She swallowed, fighting back raw, feral panic. "Aw shit. Aw_ fuckin'_ shit!" she yelled, tearing out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell. "Mac! Izzy! Ya'll get yer asses out here _pronto_!" she cried, running downstairs and donning her boots, not sure what she was gonna do, nearly naked and without anything to put the fire out, but knowing she at least had to_ try_._

_"Jack..." mumbled a sleepy Alice Bloom Apple, still wearing her yellow pyjamas with red apples on them, "What's going on?"_

_The blonde turned her head, glancing at her younger sister. "Fire in the east field. We gotta try ta get it out!"_

_Alice's eyes widened, the news shocking her awake. "Well what are we waitin' for?!" she exclaimed, quickly putting on her own boots. She then took a deep breath and yelled far louder than her older sister: "EVERYONE GET DOWN 'ERE NOW!"_

_The heavy footsteps of Macintosh rumbled through the house as the giant of a man came barrelling downstairs. They were followed by the light, borderline rhythmic tapping of Dash's bare feet as she followed, hot on his heels._

_Jack looked at everyone and immediately went to issuing orders. "Bloom, get containers! Feed buckets, milk jugs, whatever you can find out in the barn! Fill 'em up from the hose outside!"_

_"Got it, sis!" Bloom saluted Jack and scurried out of the house like a bullet._

_The farmer had inspiration strike moments later. "Mac," she barked. "That ol' milk tank we put in our junkpile-grab that an' fill it up. You might be our best chance savin' what's left!"_

_The big man simply nodded, and with a deep, "Eyup." he was out the door, headed to the junkpile as ordered._

_Jack took a shuddering breath. "D-Dash."_

_"Hit me with what you need," Isabelle quickly said._

_"Get ta town, rouse the firemen."_

_"On it," Dash said, reaching by the farmer and grabbing the keys to her car off the counter. Before she could leave, Jack grabbed her shoulder._

_"An' get Twila, too," Jack quietly said, flicking her eyes eastward. "There ain't no damn way this fire was natural."_

000

_Jack stood somberly with a few of her friends, looking at the desolated, still smouldering field. Despite their best efforts, and the efforts of the firefighters, the entire eastern plot was ruined. Mac had left to talk to the brave men who offered their assistance in putting out the blaze, but Jack didn't have the heart to move from where she was rooted._

_Alice went up to her sister, eyes focused on the destruction and gently grabbed Jack's hand. "What are we gonna do now sis...?"_

_The tanned woman squeezed the younger girl's hand. "W-we'll think of somethin'. We've been through worse."_

_Jack just couldn't remember when._

_The blonde weakly smiled, crouching down to get face level with Alice. "Go back ta the house an' get washed up fer lunch. Don't worry, ok?"_

_Alice nodded, sniffing. "O-Okay..." she looked to the house, then back at her older sister and enveloped her in a hug, resting her head on Jack's shoulder. "Love ya, sis."_

_"Love ya too, sweet pea."_

_They remained there for a small while before Alice broke off, giving Jack the smallest of smiles before heading off to the house._

_The farmer's expression darkened within moments of the young girl leaving. She sank to the ground and put her arms on her knees. "Ya'll..." Jack trailed off, forcing back a choked sob._

_Dash quickly went to her side, wrapping up the larger woman in as tight an embrace as she could. But it was Twila who spoke up first, "Whatever you need, Jack-we're all here for you. Somehow... Somehow we'll help you through this!" She herself was on the brink of tears. The studious woman almost didn't believe her own words. How could they find a solution for something like this...?_

_"Twi... There ain't no way... That wasn't jus' our money source, ya know? We ain't gonna get through the winter without them crops." She paused, then decided to continue, "This wasn't no accident either," she said, her eyes sharp and cold._

_"...Yes, I think we all know who is responsible. I just didn't expect..." She gestured to the still lightly smoking fields._

_"I _knew_ what she was sayin' was too damn good ta be true. _Shit_!" Jack swore, slamming a fist into the ground. She grimaced. "We're gettin' even," the farmer muttered._

_"How?" Dash asked the question Jack didn't have an answer to yet._

_"However we can," Twila said. "We'll get the others, we'll figure something out. This won't go unpunished, Jack." Her face hardened, but her voice became steel. "I promise you that."_

000

Dash choked back a pained grunt and sprang forward, sprinting faster than she ever had before. Just before she reached Jack, she juked to the right. Her prediction was on the money-a bullet exploded near where her chest would have been, showering the room with pieces of tile. Dash grabbed Jack's hand without breaking stride and, with one burst of strength and speed, shifted direction and dragged Jack's body towards the group. Isabelle did her best to ignore the trail of blood the farmer was leaving behind.

"Got her! Ho-lee-shit I got her!" Dash screamed, her entire body throbbing with nerves at the very near-miss.

"We're nearly there!" called Twila. "Chylene, get your kit ready!" The nervous woman nodded, her face uncharacteristically calm, determination in her eyes that no friend would die this day. Not on her watch.

"Hurry guys! I really_ really_ really can't hold out against these piggies much longer!" Pinkie cried out, at this point taking cover far more often than shooting.

"Damn it, we need something, anything-ideas, Drake?" Twila called to the radio.

"Stay the course!" Spike called out. "Regroup and head towards the vault-there's only one entrance to the room it's held it, making a stand might be the only chance we've got! I'll see if there's anything I can do on this end."

"Ya want me to fall back or keep feeding the pigs?" Pinkie asked, currently reloading.

"_Fall back! That's an order, Party_!" Spike commanded. "You'll be overwhelmed shortly-stick with the others-Mouse, you're not going to have time to play doctor out there! At the rate they're coming in, you won't have a chance to bandage her until you make it to the vault."

"Okie dokie lokie!" Pinkie replied, beginning to crawl as fast as she could out of the main room and reuniting with Jack and Dash. Once she was there, she kept low and looked at Jack with worried eyes. "She's gonna be okay, right...?" she asked Dash.

"Of course she is," said Twila as Brain group entered. "But we need to move. Party, Bolt, can you carry her?"

"Uh-huh! Bolt, grab her legs. We ain't gonna give her no piggyback!" Pinkie held Jack by the arms and Dash held her by the legs. Together the two were easily able to carry the farmer. "C'mon, we can't start oinking around!"

"Party...drop the pig puns. That last one didn't even make any sense," Dash deadpanned, focusing on the task at hand.

"Mouse," Twila snapped, "Work as you can on the move and be ready for when we have a more stable position. Gems, you and I will cover the retreat-Mystery, if you would be so kind, please lead the way."

"What about the sniper? Your friend got lucky-I doubt we'll be able to say the same," Mystery quickly said.

"Don't worry, Party's got you covered!" Pinkie chirped, grabbing a smoke grenade from her belt and tossing it over to Mystery, since she was carrying Jack.

_I wondered where those went,_ thought Twila. "Good idea, throw as many as you have where you can. That'll buy us time. Drake, see if you can call in the smoke as a fire, get the fire department here. The more chaos out there, the better for us in here."

"In that case, don't just settle for one smoke grenade, have some more!" Pinkie cheered, tossing Rarity and Twila a smoke grenade each. Mystery immediately threw his in front of the nearby window, which quickly filled with thick smoke. Twila nodded at him when it was safe for the group to move out before throwing her own down the hall they had come from.

She began to follow the rest, then something hit her, _The blood! Glad I took the time to do that extra research on forensic technique._ She reached into the carrier bag she wore and pulled out a small spray bottle, which she then used to spray Jack's blood wherever she saw it. Immediately, the smell of bleach filled the air. Though it slowed her down, she sprayed as she went, wherever her keen eyes saw dripping blood. "Gems, when we retreat towards the vault, throw the last one. Then you and I will keep the rearguard until we reach the vault itself. Party, as soon as we get there, get the C4 ready. Now, move!" Twila yelled.

Pinkie nodded at Dash and the two worked in tandem, quickly moving Jack through the smoke cover. There was a flight of stairs and upon getting there, they walked down it very carefully, gripping Jack just a bit tighter. Once they reached the bottom, they waited for the others as they found themselves at a T-intersection. The pair sighed in relief. They were safe. At least for now.

"To the left, ladies," Spike quickly said. "Right leads to the underground parking lot. Don't dawdle-the police are going to be hot on your heels shortly. I've been listening in on their radio chatter. They're planning an assault. The fire report I put in might give you a few minutes, tops. _Hurry_."

"Roger that," responded Twila, as Pinkie and Dash headed to the vault with Jack in tow. "Gems, this'll do." She bit her bottom lip. "If only we could do something else to slow them down..." Suddenly an idea hit her. "Gems, after you throw the grenade, head to the garage. See if you can find a gas cannister anywhere-there could be a spare in an emergency unity. If not, improvise some tubing, siphon some gas and make a makeshift molotov or three, if you can. Fifteen minutes, tops."

Rarity gave a nearly pained look. "You're asking moi to...to... I am not some mechanic to root around gre-"

"I don't fucking care, just do it!" Twila yelled.

"I..." Rarity faltered at the outburst. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm on it, Books. I'll do it in ten." The two women gave each other a knowing look, nodded, then went after their objectives.

"Keep guns on that stairwell, girls. Drake-call when they actually breach the front doors," Dash barked into her headset.

"I kinda planned on it, Bolt," Spike snapped back.

"Hey, Bolt, I kinda used up a lot of gun juice back there...do you mind if you could," Pinkie inclined her head towards the T-intersection, "you know? I'll look after Stet-wait. Mooooouse!" Pinkie yelled and Chylene came running to the vault.

"Stetson! Stetson! If you can hear me, just nod!" Chylene squeaked, kneeling down beside the farmer.

Jack didn't respond. Her breathing was unsteady. Labored. Chylene bit her lip and quickly set to work.

Dash knelt down besides Jack and gripped her cold hand. "Damn it, Stet-" she interrupted herself, saying her next words quietly, "C,mon Jack, pull through for us. Your family needs you...hell..._I_ need you."

During this time, Pinkie had slipped away to the others by the stairs, giving the trio some privacy.

The farmer weakly sucked in one more shuddering breath, and it was over. Her head tilted to the side, and her limbs finally relaxed. Dash only gripped her hand tighter, closing her watering eyes.

Twila entered from the hallway, saying, "Mouse, are you working on...on... Stetson!" She began to rush towards the fallen woman, but Pinkie held her back, slowly shaking her head. It was too late.

"N-no..." Chylene whispered, sinking to the floor and, clenching her eyes shut. She took a deep breath, trying not to cry-refusing to cry. As she took another breath, she felt a part of herself harden, turn to steel. She looked at the body, her eyes the embodiment of determination.

"_No_. I-I won't let her-" She cut herself off, and dug deeply into her medical bag, withdrawing a large syringe. It was a crapshoot, but it was the only chance they had at bringing Jack back. She looked over the farmer's body and with one loud yell, she plunged the syringe directly into Jack's heart.

The effects were instant as the shot of adrenaline kicked in-Jack sucked in a deep, pained breath and began thrashing against Dash's grasp in her state of confusion.

"Stetson-Stetson!" Isabelle barked, holding desperately onto one of Jack's arms. "H-help me out, guys!"

Pinkie simply nodded at Twila and went to the stairwell, awaiting Rarity. Twila moved to Jack's side, helping Dash hold her up as she continued to fight against terrors unknown. Chylene, meanwhile, began working as fast as she could, bringing out a pair of scissors and deftly removing the cloth around the wound. "I need you to hold her still, this will be pointless if I don't stop the bleeding right away!" Chylene's voice was steady, her usual reservation and nervousness gone in the rush to save her friend.

"Almost done..." Rarity spoke through her headset, "Aaaaaaand...voila! Finished! I must admit, I never saw myself doing something like this but, I suppose that's the way life turns out sometimes, hm?"

"Pigs are gonna need feeding, Gems!" Pinkie exclaimed, watching the stairwell.

"Yes yes, be patient. And please stop referring to them as 'pigs'."

Pinkie giggled lightly. "No can do, Gems!"

Twila looked up, glaring at Pinkie. "Party, don't you have something you should be doing? Mystery is waiting, get on it so we can get the hell out of here!"

"But then no one's watching the-nevermind. Boom time!" she skipped to the vault door and set to work on planting the C4, humming a merry little tune, no doubt inspired by Jack's now slightly more hopeful prospects.

Jack gave one more thrash, slamming her elbow into Dash's nose.

"Fuckin' damn it!" Isabelle snarled, blood already soaking the cloth mask. "Snap outta it!"

The blonde finally stopped convulsing and drew a breath on her own. "Wha..?" she quietly asked.

"You were shot, Stetson. Y-you're going to be ok," Chylene reassured. "You just lost a lot of blood and went into s-shock."

"Can you stand?" Dash bluntly asked, realizing they didn't have time to be anything but direct.

"Can. If I could lean on ya," the farmer panted, holding her hand up. Isabelle instantly grabbed it, hoisting the woman up and resting Jack on her shoulder.

"Stetson's alive! Stetson's alive! And soon we better diiiiive!" Pinkie sang, nearly finished with the C4. She motioned for everyone to fall back with a wave of her hand.

"Gems, we're about to blow. Be ready," Twila called before ducking her head below her arms.

"On my way as we speak, darling," Rarity replied.

"Just in time," Spike announced. "I did what I could to stall them-made a few false emergency calls across town-but they're breaching the door in one minute and they're not holding back. We're talking SWAT and fuckin' military-issue gear."

"I... hate all this timed shit..." Jack weakly panted. She pressed down on her earpiece. "A-an' watch that mouth, Drake."

"We all do," Dash agreed. "Just hang on-you're doing great."

"Okay guys, here we go!" Pinkie sprinted past the others and dove onto the floor. "Three...two...one...baboom!"

The explosive did wonders on the vault's weak spot. It blew the massive iron door clean off its hinges; the large metal piece slammed into a nearby wall, creating a resounding clang that made everyone feel vibrations in their bones.

"_Yes! Goddamn_!" Isabelle cheered. "Get to looting-I'll load mine and Stetson's bags when you guys are finished."

The others rushed inside, hearing a roar from Rarity and another small explosion. The molotov had been thrown and a few more bits of precious time bought.

"Wowie! Look at all this loot!" Pinkie ran around in the vault, grabbing whatever she possibly could, a massive grin on her face.

"Remember," said Twila calmly, having regained her composure, "stack it in as neatly as you can. We'll get at least ten to fifteen percent more that way. Let's hit _her_ as hard as we can!"

"Did I miss something ladies?" Rarity said as she entered, giving Mystery a playful smirk, "and gentleman." After a slight snicker, she began to collect what money she could.

"Fire's not gonna stall them long-the fire trucks are still outside," Spike advised.

"Just our damn luck," Dash grumbled. "Plan out something and it bites us in the ass." She glanced at her current passenger. Or, more accurately, Jack's revolver. "Can you shoot it, or is it just a showpiece right now?"

Jack weakly nodded, adjusting her weight briefly off of Dash's shoulder. She unholstered her gun and pointed up the stairwell. "I've already got one under my belt. Ya reckon you'll be alright...?"

"It's either us or them," Isabelle spoke with finality. "And I think you make better company."

The farmer made the mistake of laughing. The pain shot through her like a punch to the gut. "Y-yer such a sweetheart when I get hurt. Maybe I need ta get shot more often."

"Don't tempt the Lady now, Stetson. You may well get your wish," Twila said, darkly. "I want bags full in two minutes, then double time to the garage. Gems, you've the best eye, look in the safety deposit boxes-jewelry is compact cash." She threw the now-emptied grenade duffel at Mystery. "There, call it a bonus if you work for it."

"Who am I to refuse such a well paying employer?" Mystery quipped, getting to work rutting through the shelves of money. Twila began filling her own methodically.

Dash caught movement from the stairwell. In a flash she had her pistol aimed and fired. Two shots struck a heavily armored man, the first in the chest, and the last square in the forehead, punching through his helmet and leaving a stain on the wall behind him.

"_Guys! Get fuckin' moving!_" Isabelle roared. "_I can't hold 'em off forever!_"

Pinkie had rapidly filled her bag up with all the loot it could possibly hold, then practically skipped out of the vault. "Coming Bolt!" she chimed, setting down her bag as she reached Dash and Jack. Weapon in hand, she fired at the approaching officers and gestured with a nod of the head to the pair, telling them to get away.

"Drake, darling," Rarity spoke calmly into her mic, picking up a bag full of loot, "will you kindly give us an escape route?!" Her last words were louder than intended but the situation was rapidly getting tenser and tenser.

"Calm down, Gems," Spike reassured as best he could. "The plan for escape remains the same. Take the stairwell to the underground parking lot you were in a moment ago. From there, make it out to the streets, then to the rendezvous point."

"Ah, right," she replied with an embarrassed chuckle, "thank you Drake." Running a hand through her hair, she took her bag and proceeded to Dash and Jack's location just as another police officer came running down the stairwell towards the four. He clutched a ballistic shield tightly against his heavily armored body and had a pistol in his free hand.

"_A fuckin' shield!_" Dash cried out, shooting towards the man regardless. As expected, her bullets bounced easily off the reinforced metal. The man took aim through the small slit in the center of his defenses and fired his gun. The bullet slammed into the wall beside Dash. The athlete squeezed her trigger once more, only coming up with a sound she dreaded the most right now.

A dry, empty click.

"_Shit! I'm out!_" Isabelle said.

"Just get to the parking lot with the shinies, I'll lay down some super suppressive fiery fun!" Pinkie announced, the adrenaline in her system causing her to grin almost maddeningly. She took aim and unleashed a storm of bullets at the riot officer, all the bullets pinging off but impeding his progress nonetheless. "Gogogogogogogogoooooooooooo!"

"You don't need to tell me twice!" Rarity remarked, sprinting past the trio, screaming all the way then laughing with delight when she made it through intact. She was down the flight of stairs leading to the garage in a heartbeat.

"Quick!" Twila commanded, having finally filled her own bag near to bursting, pointing the way for Chylene and Mystery.

"On it," he said.

"R-right," Chylene agreed.

The three quickly made their way up the stairs, past the landing Dash, Jack, and Pinkie were on, and down the flight leading to the garage.

Pinkie nudged Dash and Jack, reloading her last magazine. "Now you two. Go go go," she ordered, eyes locked on her target. Jack ducked just as the heavily armored man fired once more.

"Come on, Stetson. Let's head down the stairs," Dash quickly said, heading down the flight with Jack in tow. As they made their way down, Jack's nearly numbed feet got tangled together. She fell wordlessly, landing on the steps with nothing more than a quiet, pained grunt. The blonde's vision swam and she briefly shut her eyes, her head feeling like it was prepared to crack open.

_The farmer took a deep breath, trying to put her nervous thoughts behind her as she stood on the dust covered road by her barn. She took a glance over her friends in turn. From observant Twila, to almost unnervingly excited Pinkie, to the fearful Chylene, and the reserved Rarity. Finally, her eyes looked over Isabelle. The athlete's multi-hued hair blew in the harsh night winds as she nodded in a quiet encouragement to Jack._

_"I did some... renovation in the barn," Jack simply stated, reaching behind her to toss the door open. The others peered in._

_At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed. There was still the unmistakable odor of hay and sweat. Feedbags lined the right wall and farming implements hung from carpenter nails from the west wall. In the back were a few feed stalls, currently unoccupied._

_"Er...I'm not seeing it, Jack," Twila commented, folding her arms across her chest._

_"You're not looking hard enough." Dash smirked. She gave a small gesture towards the stalls, pointing towards a fairly unnoticeable piece of wood laying on the floor._

_"That's just a plank of wood...but I suspect it's what hidden under it, yes?" Twila gave Jack a knowing smirk._

_"Eyup. It used ta be a storage celler-like the one we got out back by the house. This one's where we kept things we didn't want Alice ta touch." Jack moved over to the wood and hoisted it up, revealing a ladder leading to the inky blackness._

_"Such as spirits, I'd imagine," Twila said dryly-she never touched such things herself._

_"Best booze I've ever had," Dash said._

_The farmer went down the ladder and waited expectantly for her friends. When everyone's eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the underground room, they noticed a shelf lined with dusty bottles to their left, and a saddle sitting on the ground next to a wooden wall straight ahead. Jack weakly smiled and grabbed a bottle from the top shelf. She brushed off the gathered dust and read from the label._

_"_Ian's own brand Applejack. Bottle date, 1982_. Pa's favorite drink. He kept this bottle 'cause of it bein' my birthyear an' all-said I should save it fer somethin' important. Well..." She uncorked the top. Instantly, the room was graced with a scent of cider so powerful, Isabelle's mouth watered instinctively. Jack took a heavy swig of it and winced as the beverage socked her gut. The farmer extended the bottle towards the other women._

_Dash reached for it first. She slammed the drink back and recoiled, coughing from its potency. The athlete offered it around._

_Surprisingly, Twila took it next. She took a whiff and winced, but finally she said, "For all of us, just this once, I suppose." Then she brought the bottle to her lips and took an impressive swig, giving a rough cough as she finished, offering the bottle to the next._

_Rarity gently grabbed it, saying, "This is so uncouth, drinking from the bottle..." Jack gave the woman a flat look so she hurriedly continued, "...but in this case, I think an exception can be made." She daintily tipped the bottle back, tipping it a bit further when the deliciously potent beverage hit her tongue. Letting out a satisfied and rather undignified sound of satisfaction, she handed the bottle to Pinkie._

_"Cheers!" Pinkie exclaimed before taking a big swig from the bottle, although there was still a bit left for Chylene. "Mhm, that's got a mighty kick to it!" she commented, before handing the drink over to Chylene._

_"Oh, um, I'll only have a little bit..." the shy woman said, flinching as Pinkie let out a large burp. She gingerly put the bottle to her lips, drinking only the smallest portion before giving the bottle back to Jack. "Thank you for sharing..."_

_The farmer's expression briefly fell. "Nah," she quietly said. "Thank y'all fer comin'." She moved towards the saddle by the wall. "Well. I ain't the type fer speeches, so I guess I'll jus' show ya what we've done down here." The group watched the farmer with immense interest as she pushed down on the horn of the saddle. They heard a click, and a part of the wall sunk into the floor, showcasing a far more modern hallway, with concrete flooring and walls. "Jus' down this way."_

_"Man, can't wait to see their faces," Dash gloated, rubbing her hands together._

_The hallway expanded after a minute of walking, reaching out into thick blackness. Jack felt along the wall briefly and flicked on a switch nearby. The room was suddenly illuminated in harsh fluorescent lighting, showcasing its expansiveness. It was well furnished, stockpiled with foodstuffs and emergency supplies, along with several comfortable chairs and a massive television screen. Near them were several heavy and tall blocks of wood-each wearing indentions that suggested they had suffered quite a bit of abuse. In the distance was a gun range, with automated targets and a large stockpile of guns and crates of ammunition._

_"Ladies," Jack grimly announced. "Welcome to the Hub."_

_Pinkie scanned the room, eyes widened. "Oooooooo! This is so cool, Jack!" She ran over to the chairs and jumped over the back of one, landing on the seat. "What channels do you have?!"_

_"Mind the stuff, Pinkie," a young voice announced from the television. Spike instantly appeared on the screen, completely exhausted. He rested his head on a fist and yawned. "I spent too long wiring everything up for someone to break it."_

_"The Spike channel? Never heard of this one, Jack. Is there a Dashie channel too?" She raised an eyebrow at the screen before turning her head to the farmer._

_"I wouldn't mind watchin' it if there were." She smirked, giving a meaningful look over to the athlete._

_Chylene was the first to break the good mood. She glanced towards the farmer. "H-how did you afford all of this renovation, Jack?"_

_The Apple frowned. "Despite how much we fight ta make a profit, this farm's been debt free since my grandpa's time. I, uh, used our good credit history an' took out some loans." She bit at her lip. "Then Dash had ta sell her vintage car collection."_

_"No worries. Besides, I still have my two custom jobs-I'm keeping them hell or high water." Dash nodded._

_"An... I had ta sell over half our acreage. I made sure ta stipulate a buyback period on the deal-if I can meet it, then I'll be able to set things right."_

_"But if you can't..." Chylene trailed off._

_"It's a fuckin' crapshoot, but there's no other way we coulda pulled this kind of cash together. She did what she had to," Isabelle defended, stepping by Jack._

_Twila raised her hands. "No one's saying she didn't, it's just, your farm, it's _always_ been in your family. It's the most important thing..." she trailed off, unsure exactly what words to say._

_"My family's more important ta me than the whole world. The farm ain't nothin' but a piece of dirt compared ta 'em." She glanced to the side and shook her head, fighting back a sharp anger in her gut. "An' as long as someone like _her_ sits on the throne, I'm scared fer 'em." The farmer took a breath to calm down. Eventually, she was able to meet Twila's gaze. "Ain't _nothin's_ gonna stop me from makin' sure they're taken care of."_

_Jack felt a pair of arms go around her and hug her tightly. Surprisingly they weren't Isabelle's. "We're here for you, Jack," Pinkie said reassuringly._

_"I-I know." The farmer morosely nodded. "Thanks, y'all."_

_A yawn came from the television. Spike was close to dozing off in his seat._

_"Spike, what exactly are you doing, transmitting like that this late?" Twila asked with her usual concern for the young man._

_"Well, I figured you might want to know exactly what we're planning. I told Jack earlier-thought I'd let everyone else in on the plan, now that we have enough money to start turning the wheels."_

_Her eyebrow raising in mild irritation, Twila asked too calmly, "Planning? And I'm only just finding out about this?"_

_Spike raised his arms defensively, looking nervous despite being safe behind a screen. "I only didn't tell you because I needed to keep the plan, uh, loose for a bit. S-see where the wind took it, you know? You're... sometimes, uh, a bit too... precise with your ideas?" he offered, already wincing slightly._

_Before Twila could respond, Rarity spoke up, "Oh, Spikey-wikey is such a smart young man, I'm sure the plan he's devised will be ingenious-if we could just hear it?" She gave Twila a slightly pleading look. Scoffing, Twila crossed her arms under her breasts and gave one quick nod of the head._

_"I have some associates that live outside of the country. A few... powerful associates. People with connections. People who _know_ people. If we can funnel them some money for supplies, they'll provide bodies to help us. They've never been fond of Celestia." He darkly laughed, seeming far older than he really was for a brief moment. "_Especially_ now. Our interests are the same. We just have to nail one big score."_

_"O-one big... s-score?" Chylene muttered, drawing in a breath sharply. "Do you... Do you mean... _stealing_ the money?!"_

_"If there was any other way, I'd do it, sugar. Ya know I would," Jack quietly said._

_"Wait," Pinkie said, breaking away from Jack, "are we gonna rob a bank?!" she asked excitedly._

_"The First and National in Manhattan, to be precise," Spike said._

_"Oh my gosh, that's gonna be so cool! Are we gonna use explosives and shooty things?! Oh boy, oh boy, this is so exciiiiiiting!" Pinkie sang, bouncing around the room._

_"This ain't no game," Jack barked to Diane. "If we mess up, someone might..."_

_Pinkie stopped her jumping. "Might what?"_

_"What the hell do ya think?!" the farmer snapped, glaring daggers at the energetic woman._

_"Easy, Jackie," Dash warned._

_"Oh," Pinkie said somberly, looking down at the floor sadly, "I'm sorry..."_

_Jack put a hand to her temple. "Naw. Sorry I got onta ya, Pinkie."_

_"No no," Pinkie shook her head, regaining some of her lost energy, "I got waaaaay ahead of myself."_

_"We're all getting ahead of ourselves," Twila said calmly. "There's untold risks involved, it'll take weeks-months of planning to pull off!"_

_"Seventy days," Jack said. The group looked at her. "Seventy days is all I got, if I wanna buy back my land." Twila's jaw dropped, her eyes nearly bugging._

_"Guess you'd better get crackin' on ideas, egghead," Dash weakly joked._

_Jack stole a glance once more at everyone. She moved farther into the room, towards the range. "An' it ain't 'bout jus' gettin' a feel fer what we're doin'. Question fer y'all: Ever shoot a gun?"_

_There was a general chorus of nays and the shaking of heads._

_Chylene said, "Um... I-I have, a few times. Sort of..." Jack waited patiently for her to continue. She squeaked before saying, "Oh, well, it was a-a tranquilizer gun. For the animals."_

_"Mmm. I gotcha," Jack said. "Well, the real deal is a bit different from a tranq. Same principle, at least." She reached over to the large collection of guns and pulled out a large revolver. "Ya try ta keep yerself fluid when ya shoot. Unless it's a long shot, ya draw, aim, an' fire in one go."_

_She demonstrated, holding the gun to her side. With one blurred snap of her wrist, she lifted the piece, aimed, and squeezed off a round. The noise echoed across the large room, causing Chylene to squeal and crouch, frightened, as a bullet ripped square through the chest of a target._

_"Like that," the farmer said. "Do it too slow, an odds are your aim'll lock up on ya. Too fast, an yer shot's goin' wide. Jus' a nice, lil' rhythm-ya hear?"_

_Pinkie stared at one of the guns, a P90. "Ooooo, that one looks weird!" she said, pointing at it._

_Jack nodded. "Military make, from what Spike told me. Said his associates gave us some heavier hardware as a 'token of good faith.'"_

_"Am I gonna shoot it?" Diane replied, sounding a little bit in disbelief herself._

_"I reckon it might work well fer ya. Thing doesn't have quite the recoil a heavier gun has." She then added under her breath. "That, an I have a feelin' yer gonna need a big clip ta actually hit anythin'."_

_"Uh, okay then." She carefully took the gun and aimed it at one of the target. Sticking her tongue out in concentration, she hit the trigger. There was only the sound of clicking. "Jack, this one's broken I think."_

_"Check the foot of the trigger. Is the dial set to 'S?'"_

_Pinkie rotated the gun, eventually finding said 'S'. "Yep."_

_"Turn it ta the '1' fer semi, 'A' fer automatic. An keep that damn barrel pointed away from everyone!"_

_Pinkie nodded, doing so and making sure that the barrel was well away from her friends. She aimed down the range once again and pulled the trigger. A short barrage of bullets flew from the gun, but not many hit their intended target. That didn't stop her from giggling though. "Ooooo! That was fun!"_

_"Glad you're enjoying it at least," Dash said._

_Pinkie put the safety back on before turning to the others. "You should try it. Gives you a buzz!"_

_"Eh, let someone else first-don't wanna discourage 'em by how _awesome_ of a shot I am." Dash examined her fingernails disinterestedly._

_"Well, if _you_ can do it, surely_ I_ can," Rarity said haughtily. Pinkie offered the rifle to her, but she gave a distasteful _tsk_ while shaking her head. "Don't you have anything more suitable for a refined lady such as myself?"_

_"Hell, I dunno, Rare. Rut around in the boxes, I'm sure you'll find somethin' that meets yer fancy-pants tastes," Jack remarked, taking out her spent bullet and replacing it with a fresh one._

_The woman sniffed and replied, "I don't 'rut', thank you very much. Twila, let's go find something we civilized young women can use."_

_Twila blinked, saying, a little unsure on her own preferences, "Oh, r-right.". She'd never given much thought to firearms. "I'll have to scour the library for any books on modern weaponry-obviously a rifle like Pinkie has is out of the questions. Perhaps a simple handgun?"_

000

"Come on... fuckin' get up... _get up_!" Dash barked, hoisting the farmer up and around her shoulder once more. She performed a balancing act, awkwardly reloading her pistol with her free hand.

"Oh shit!" Spike shouted over the headset. "Guys, more bad news-"

"Give me a _fucking break_!" Dash shouted, glancing frantically to the rest of the group.

"The ramp leading to the streets. They're sending in cops from there-they're trying to pincer you!"

"What are we gonna do? There's no way we can-"

"There is a way," Jack panted out, her glazed eyes looking hard at Dash. "_We go through_."

"You're fucking crazy! They'll-"

"They'll do _nothing_ to us. We jus'... jus' can't be afraid." The farmer let out a rough cough.

"I hate to admit it but...it is probably the only viable option we have right now," Rarity added.

Twlia gave everyone a worried look, frowning in thought. She then blinked in realization. "Where's Party?"

"I'm here. Here!" Pinkie was walking towards the group, at a rate slower than her usual energetic skip, bag in one hand, P90 absent in the other. "I ran out of juice but I slowed the pigs down," she said, gritting her teeth. "Oh, and I made sure to do the bleachy thing, Books."

Chylene gasped. "Party! You're hurt!"

Pinkie looked down to her limp arm, blood trailing down from the upper end. "Yeah. It stings real bad. Like a big wasp just stung me!" Pinkie winced. "We can worry about it later, let's get to the car. I want back on the open road!" she cheered, her cheerfulness seemingly unaffected by her wounds.

"Um, o-okay," Chylene mumbled, then spoke up with a motherly tone, "But as soon as we're in the clear, I'm tending to it."

"Gotcha!" Pinkie replied, then looked at Dash. "Let's go then!"

"Twi... get us inta position," Dash said, trusting the woman to set up a good ambush spot.

"Let me think, let me_ think_!" she responded. When they'd reached the bottom of the stairs into the garage, she stopped, closing her eyes tight and concentrating. She'd studied all the blueprints, perfectly memorizing their pictures mentally.

Quietly at first, but picking up speed and volume as she went, she spoke to herself, "They'll be following us up these stairs, coordinating with the teams from outside. If we saw one riot shield, there's bound to be others. They'll lead with the shields, having seen what we're capable of. Behind will most likely be the better marksmen, popping up to take shots at targets of opportunity. At least if they're following standard procedure.

"We're not long for ammunition or supplies and we've wounded to take care of and slow us down. They'll see the signs and probably assume as much. So. It's full out assault versus..." She looked at her friends one by one. "...us." She put her hands behind her back, wringing them together as she paced for a moment, still thinking.

She ignored the near panicking young man. "Party, Bolt-what exactly do we have left? And, I know I gave you the list of supplies to bring, but did you sneak any...surprises?"

"I don't got shit save for an extra clip for my nine!" Dash quickly said.

"I only got my pistol now..." Pinkie admitted, wincing a bit at her wound. Then she suddenly brightened up. "Hey! Why don't we take a car and batter them down like a bowling ball?!"

Twila gave a firm shake of her head, "No, that won't work. They'll just pepper the car, shoot out the tires, or even just get us through the very not-bullet-proof window. No, we've got to disable them, here and now. Here's what we'll do: Jack, you're clearly wounded. So... you get to play bait."

"I... I can still fight," the farmer grunted, trying to muscle through the pain.

"I can too! Just with one arm 'cause the other's all limpy and numb," Pinkie added with a few quick nods.

Again the shake of a head. "No, Stetson, I don't need you to fight." She gestured to the open lane heading out towards the exit. "You'll wait there. Completely unarmed, exposed. If you show no resistance, they won't shoot you, they'll come close to capture. And that's exactly where we want them." She gave a wicked grin as her eyes flashed with malicious intelligence. "They want to pincer _us_? Let's pincer_ them_!

"Party, I want you to go and get a car on this end, fast." She gestured to the up ramp, leading to the spaces on the floors above. "Get one of these on the slope so it'll roll, and direct it towards the stairs here. Wait until they've come on in and gotten closer to Stetson, then let it go and make your way to the central garage stairs. That's how you'll rejoin us over on the other end." She paused, thinking, then nodded. "And when you're over _there_, hotwire a car and get it going up the outramp, if you can."

"Ooooo, okie dokie lokie!" Pinkie chirped, rushing off at a moderate pace towards the cars.

"Bolt, keep yourself hidden on the opposite side-when the force comes in and nears Stetson, it'll be your duty to...take as many of them out as possible. That is absolutely vital. Normally I'd say disable-try if you can but don't waste a single bullet. Take Stetson's weapon, too. When they've passed you, their shields will be useless. Hopefully the crash on this side will keep them busy, but as soon as they see the second car, they'll be paying full attention to that side." She gave her a serious look. "Don't get caught in the open when that time comes."

"On it." Dash gave a serious look of her own to the injured farmer hanging from her side. "Hand the piece over, Stetson."

The farmer scowled, but did as she was instructed. "Not a scratch."

Twila took a measured look at Rarity and Chylene. "What to do with you two..."

"Please, I'm not some hunk of meat to be judged and graded. If that ruffian can ambush them on that side, I'll take this side. I've plenty to spare, myself."

"Huh? But how?" Twila asked, disbelieving.

The fashionable woman gave a knowing blink. "In the things I have to wear, you have to know how to utilize every last inch of space. I've a few magazines tucked here or there." Chylene blushed.

"OK, then you're on this end. It's not as important for you to take them out as Bolt-the car should handle most of that. Just keep your path to the exit clear. And this also means you're responsible for getting Stetson up and out when it's time to split. Now, Mouse..."

"It's time for the big guns-you'll provide covering fire. I know you've limited ammo, but every bullet you've got will count for a full clip of what we've got left." The improving tactician looked around for a good spot. "There's a booth over there, get in it and stay down until you hear the first shot fired. Then help Bolt clear this end until you're empty."

She turned to Mystery who had kept quiet but followed closely. "You, Mystery, stick with me-we'll split on the way out."

"Suits me well enough, I'm just here for my early pension, not a Spaghetti Western shootout," he replied drily.

Twila raised her voice so that the distant Isabelle and Pinkie could hear. "The escape plan is the second car, but not_ in_ it. We'll run alongside it, using it as cover! I'm not sure what exactly will await us outside, so listen for my orders as we go. Are we all _ready_?!"

"Ready and steady!" Pinkie called out, before smashing the window of the car she had picked with her pistol.

Dash moved over and gently laid the farmer on the concrete. "I'll take care of you," she quietly said, moving to position. Jack weakly smiled, doing her best to control her nervous breathing.

"Know ya will... sugar..."

"Hey, Books," came Spike's nervous voice.

"Not now, Drake. We're about to enact the plan!"

"But Books-"

"I said, not now!" she cried, cutting him off.

"But what will _you_ be doing?" he yelled over her.

She stopped short and blinked a couple times before giving a flat, "Oh. Uh..."

Mystery smirked at her, laughing darkly. "The overzealous tactician-keeping track of every resource but herself. Sounds like the punchline to some bad joke. Hope you can handle the hecklers."

"Incoming, girls!" Spike called from the radio, interrupting Twila's sharp retort just as heavy footsteps echoed from the stairwell. On the other side of the room, the girls could hear the sound of the shutter blocking the street access being lifted.

"Game time," Isabelle grunted, checking her 9's.

"I'll figure it out, everyone just follow the plan!" ordered Twila, ignoring Mystery's widening grin.

The girls went to position as Twila ducked behind a column, just as a squad of eight guards came up the stairwell, with a shield at their front and flank. They slowly, cautiously prowled the lot in a box formation, their guns at the ready. From the shutter side, a group was carefully heading down the slope leading outside, their assault rifles scanning over the lot with high-powered flashlights. One man from the stair unit stopped his sweep upon seeing Jack's body. He raised a fist-his unit stopped alongside him.

"Spotted one perp. Looks to be unarmed and injured," he said through his gas mask.

"Roger. Moving into position," another to his side agreed. The shields altered their positions around the group, protecting their sides as they approached Jack.

"Fuck," Dash whispered as quietly as she could into her earpiece. "One of the shields is blocking his friends from where I'm sitting. Twi, shit, _anyone_, can you get me a... a _distraction_ or something?"

"Party-find the nicest, most expensive looking car near you and break the window," Twila whispered.

A loud battle shout from Pinkie could be heard, followed by the smashing of glass and the repetitive noise of a car alarm.

The guards whipped around at the noise, the shields included. Dash was on them in a heartbeat; she rose from her hiding spot, a glock in each hand and Jack's revolver tucked into her pants. She indiscriminately unloaded her rounds, netting shots in the kidneys, the lungs, legs, anything exposed by their position. The masked woman shot until her fingers hurt and her clips ran dry, leaving a ring of corpses around the farmer. A shield slowly toppled over and clanged to the floor, landing beside its dead owner. Before she could celebrate, shots rang out beside her lithe body-one coming so close as to graze her shoulder-shattering the wall behind her. She jumped to the side, ducking once more into cover as the remains of the stairwell group retaliated.

"_Any fuckin' time, guys_!" she bellowed, not caring that they could hear her just fine over the mic. She briefly knelt down in her cover, tearing off her sleeve to tie up her bleeding shoulder.

Pinkie meanwhile, had decided to commandeer the car she had just broken into. The pigs had merely dismissed it as a distraction, giving her time to drive it. She quickly hotwired the car (something Dash taught her to do), although it was a little awkward with only one good arm. Despite that, she got the car working and began to drive it to the top of the slope while humming a delightful tune. "You know, I should really get my licence."

"I wonder if this radio works..." she thought out loud to herself, twiddling the knobs. All she got was static. She pouted slightly and used the handbrake when she was in position. Considering Dash's loud words, she didn't need permission to get the car rolling.

"Time to get a strike. And maybe a turkey!" she giggled, releasing the handbrake. The car slowly went down the slope but it rapidly gained momentum. Pinkie swung open the door and dived out before the car hit its targets.

She yelped in pain as she hit the floor, unfortunately landing on her wound. Through the pain, she forced herself up, hurriedly bleaching the red stain that she had left on the floor.

The police weren't so lucky. The sound of the car alarm had blocked out the sound of the car rolling down the slope, so before any of them had time to react, the vehicle had bowled them over. Some went right under the car and others were knocked to the side, breaking their line of formation completely.

That didn't mean it was a time to take a quick break though. Pinkie briskly headed down the stairs and made her way over to a car. Breaking the window of her new vehicle with a gunshot, she opened the car and began the process of hotwiring it.

During all this, Rarity had been ducking in and out between a support pillar and a large SUV parked too close to it. Unlike Dash's nearly spray and pray shooting, she'd been picking her targets-gun hands and lower legs for the most part. Though some of the officers had gotten wise to her, blocking all her shots with their shields.

Then Pinkie's car crashed into them.

_Right,_ she thought._ Time for me to run along_!

Chylene gripped the rifle tightly, her hands shaking terribly. She'd not wanted to take the weapon up, but someone had to, Dash had said. And she'd had some experience with rifles before, though it had taken a lot of practice for her to learn how to handle the kick.

She didn't start right after the shooting began, she couldn't. But finally, slowly, she lifted the impressive weapon over the open booth window. The scene outside was a terror of blood and carnage, Dash having effectively gone crazy, as far as Chylene could tell. Forcing her eyes open, she steadied her aim at a particularly skillful officer-his shield was a mass of cracks and dents from blocking Dash's assault.

Completely letting out her breath, she cleared her mind. It wasn't so different, she had found, from doing a few of the less enjoyable things to her animals, such as certain surgeries, or when it came time to breed them. Or, worse, when an unsavable animal had to be put down. So she simply went into the same near trance she took on during those times. She wasn't wielding a rifle: all she envisioned was the syringe, needing only one little push.

With one little pull of the trigger, she felt a terrible discomfort hit her shoulder and watched, strangely fascinated, as the bullet found its mark, tearing through shield and man alike. She breathed in, then choked as she saw two others behind him go down. It was very possible she had just killed several men. And she wasn't done.

Twila watched all this with careful eyes, monitoring every move and keeping track of everyone's position. She counted in her head, estimating when Pinkie would arrive with the second car. Mystery simply stood near her, his features calm for the most part, but his sweat-soaked shirt and wringing hands betraying just how terrified he was.

The young woman couldn't blame him-they were all terrified.

"Gems, grab Stetson and get to cover, watch for Party. Bolt, calm the bullet storm and try and force them to cover, if you can. Don't let them pick up those shields again! Mouse, fire until you're empty or we pass you, whichever is first. Wait for my signal-and Party, hurry up with that cover!" She reached into the inner pocket of her bag, pulling out the last surprise she had; their contact's eyes bugged a bit when he saw it, his mouth taking on an almost half-crazed grin. It was almost time. Pinkie just had to get them that car...

The energetic woman finally did arrive with the car but her driving was slower and more conservative than normal. She slammed her fist on the horn, a loud din echoing across the room. "Let's go ladies!"

"Damn it, Party," Twila said under her breath. "You heard her, everyone _move out_! And Party, once you've got that car heading out, get OUT of it!"

Pinkie started driving towards the exit ramp. Now was the time to move out.

Rarity had reached the wounded Jack, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and half carrying the nearly spent farmer. Dash peeked out of her cover. On seeing the coast relatively clear, she made a quick run to Rarity.

"You cool?" Dash asked, glancing over to her wounded companion.

"F-fine. I'm jus'... woozy," the blonde said, teetering on her feet.

"Hang tight. We're almost home free, babe." She stopped consoling the woman and quickly looked around the area. "_Any fuckin' day, Books!_" Dash roared.

"Already there," she replied. "At the trunk of the car with Mystery. Open the doors and walk behind the car as best as you can. Party, punch it! Mouse, be ready, we'll be passing you soon."

Pinkie looked in the back of the car for something to weigh down the pedal. She found a white carrier back on one of the seats and took it, placing it down. She didn't know what was inside but it weighed down the pedal so that the car went by at a moderate speed. Her hands were still on the wheel though, just in case.

In a very short amount of time, they were at Chylene's location. She fired one last shot, taking down an officer who was getting back up. Swinging the rifle behind her, she hurried out of the booth and took a spot next to Pinkie.

"I'm g-going to h-h-have nightma-" She choked back a sob. "Forever!"

Pinkie gave her a single glance, mostly focused on driving. "Me, too," she said solemnly, although her tone steadily became more hopeful, "But...maybe not forever. That's why we're doing this right? Escaping the one we're in now."

"Is everyone accounted for?" Spike's voice broke over the radio.

"A-ain't dead yet, Drake," Jack weakly joked. She spasmed, clutching Rarity's shoulder tightly as she weathered a coughing fit. "Jus feelin' like it."

Nudging her lightly with an elbow, Rarity called, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, or so you're always telling me about all that dirty farm work you make me do on occasion."

Dash chimed in, "I'd hate to see you give in now, so close to the end-not like you to lose."

"I didn't go through that shit jus' ta... ta die now."

"Me and Mouse are ready and definitely not deady!" Pinkie said through the radio, "I'm hurting though..."

"Just one more good push, girls. One more," Spike encouraged. "Make it over to the parking garage across the street. Your carriage awaits you on floor three."

The group of girls had all gathered around the car, which was picking up speed slowly as it went up the outramp. Pinkie still inside with Chylene beside her, Twila and Mystery at the rear, and Rarity, Jack, and Dash along the passenger side back door.

"OK, guys-listen up. I'm sealing the garage behind us," said Twila matter-of-factly.

"With _what_?" Rarity called.

"We used all the fuckin' explosives at the vault, didn't we?" Dash asked.

Twila giggled. "I'm so disappointed that I was the only one with a surprise. Party!"

"Gotcha, Books. Just hurry up with it. This car ain't go no brakes!" Pinkie joked.

"Party, unless you want to see the finale first hand, I'd advise you to get out of the car...now!" she replied tersely.

Pinkie blinked, giving Chylene a short nod before carefully exiting the vehicle, Pinkie nearly tripping over. The car kept on moving and they hid behind the open doors.

"Uh...Books, what are you planning?" Spike's nervous question rang in her ear.

"Do you honestly think I'd not hold something back for an emergency, Drake?" she explained, pausing to throw something back towards the bottom of the ramp. "We need to move, fifteen seconds!"

As the car sped up, it became more difficult for the now almost totally drained group. For most, the adrenaline high was fading fast, replaced by the slow weight of fear and exhaustion. But to their hopes, the light at the end of the tunnel was becoming clear-literally.

About two-thirds the way up the ramp, Twila's surprise went off. She'd kept some of the C4, leaving a packet behind. The concussion wave pushed them forward, causing Rarity to nearly trip and take Jack with her. Chylene turned back to see a cloud of dust and debris, most likely hiding the collapsed walls of the garage, blocking any possible pursuit from inside.

The group's ears were ringing as Twila continuously shouted, "Everyone, stop, now!" It took her nearly a dozen shouts before finally being heard, her voice breaking and going ragged from the effort.

Pinkie and Chylene both froze the moment the explosion had begun and looked back at Twila, Chylene trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"Hooo-leee _shit_. Nice! That'll stop the cocksuckers dead in their tracks!" Dash remarked, pointing a thumb towards the blockade.

"But, Books, why stop? You need to get out of there and fast!" Drake called when everyone could hear again.

"I concur, stopping is goddamned madness!" said Mystery, a little bit of panic in his voice.

"And run right out into the officers outside, dying in a blaze of glory? No thanks." She winked at Rarity, who gave her a confused look. Then, with a cocky grin she pulled out a detonator. "I kept two blocks-the other is on the back of the car. Five...four...three...two...and-now!" She pushed the button.

Another explosion rang out from the opening above, this time softened somewhat, failing to deafen the group.

"Through the debris, watch your footing and go! We're almost home free," croaked Twila, breathing in deeply as she forced her tired legs to walk forward. Chylene wrapped an arm around Pinkie, the two helping each other to walk quicker. They both coughed harshly when they reached the black smoke.

"Get Jack the _fuck_ outta here!" Dash ordered as they broke out into the street, gesturing towards the garage with her pistol. "I'll bring up the rear."

Putting more of Jack's weight on her own shoulders, Rarity groaned and whined, "I'm going to need at _least_ a week's worth of baths to feel clean again. I hope we grabbed enough, because I am not doing this _again_!"

"When we get back... I wanna drink 'till I'm _numb_," Jack grunted, squeezing her eyes tight as she tried her best to support her own weight.

It was nearly impossible to see anything through the roiling black smoke as the group hit flat pavement. The wind occasionally broke the wispy cloud, granting them a sight of a nearly endless collection of police cars, SWAT vans, EMTs, and fire trucks. The sound of a large crowd could be heard over the roar of the nearby flaming wreckage ahead of them.

Twila could feel the sweat soaking her suit as she neared the fires. "Left three feet!" she called, pulling the stumbling Mystery along with her just before he barbequed himself.

"Thanks," he wheezed. "Can't see a damn thing. So glad this is almost over..."

"Go go go!" Dash called from the back. "Almost to the garage! Just cross the fuckin' street!"

"Guys!" Drake yelled. "They're giving the order to fire into the smoke!"

"Mother of-stay low!" Dash cried out, her voice cracking slightly.

Pinkie grabbed Chylene and dove to the floor with her. At this point, she could tell that the shy woman was crying. She hugged her with her good arm and hoped for the best. It was all they could do.

Since he had no radio, Twila had been forced to tackle Mystery to the ground. She found it odd that, despite the seriousness of the situation, she could feel just how rigidly calm his entire body was. Terrified, but desperate to hold onto sanity. _So close to the end...life clings to life with desperate abandon, I guess,_ she thought to herself as the bullets began to fly.

Dash scowled. "Everyone, get the hell outta here!" she said, pushing down on her earpiece so hard she heard a small cracking noise. The athlete backtracked towards the entrance of the ramp and began shooting her pistol back through the choking smoke. "I'll see if I can distract them, _go_!"

As much as she hated it, Twila could tell the gunfire had been turned back the way they came, so she called, "Run for it, Gems-do not drop Stetson!" Helping Mystery to his feet, she ran forward as fast as she could, not noticing if anyone came with her. At this point, though it cut her worse than the sharpest knife, they had to each just hope and try.

"Run, Gems!" Jack said weakly. "Leave me... I'll slow you down too much..."

Rarity shook her head and gave the wounded woman a distasteful look. "Why would I do such a foolish thing?"

"I... I've been nothin' but _worthless_ through this whole damn shitstorm," she hissed, blinking away bitter tears. She lowered her already weak voice. "I'm dead weight, Rare. _Drop me_."

"If you weren't so hurt, I'd slap you," she replied coldly. Hefting Jack in a more comfortable position-which wasn't easy, as she wasn't exactly light-she trudged as fast as she could. "Saying such a... a... ridiculously foolish thing! What do you think I'm here for? What we're all here for?"

"Yeah, Ja-Stetson," Spike's voice came over the radio. "If we left you behind... what sort of friends would that make us?"

"He's right, you know," said Twila. "This whole plan was for you. Without you, it fails. And I. Do _not_. Fail!"

"We'd hate to see you give up now! Not after everything we've been through!" Pinkie chimed in, she looked over to the weeping Chylene. "I know Mouse agrees with me."

"Y-Yes..." Chylene sniffled, "Think of your f-family too..."

"Guys..." Jack trailed off as they continued making their way across the street. She wiped her eyes with a shaking hand and sucked in a breath. "God. Y'all... I-"

A shot punched through one of the concrete pillars of the garage, stopping Jack's words. "I owe ya'll," she quietly said. After a beat, she shifted in Rarity's grasp. "But move yer asses-there's too much heat fer all this feel-good shit. Floor 3!"

Everyone gave their affirmatives and double-timed as best they could. "But what about Bolt?" Spike yelled.

"I trust her," Jack said simply, clenching her hand into a fist.

"Twenty feet to the entrance," Twila reported.

"After this, you're going on a diet," Rarity told Jack with a grunt, readjusting her carrying stance again.

The group quickly drug their bruised and beaten bodies into the garage, one by one. Some of the cops had noticed when they'd cleared the smoke and began shooting, but too late. They were home free.

"We did it." Jack let out a small laugh. "We actually _did it_."

"W-what about Bolt?" Chylene pondered.

"She's fine. I know it," the farmer dismissed. Going by the tone under her mask, Jack was scowling.

"Oh. I-I'm sure she is," the meek woman hesitantly agreed.

Pinkie knelt down and layed on the floor, laughing lightly with relief. It was hard to tell due to the mask but her face was noticeably paler than it was before. "Whew... thank goodness... someone gimme some yummy cupcakes and then I'll fall asleep..."

A small red dot shone from across the garage, nearby the stairwell. It reminded Twila a lot of a laser pointer, only-

"Not another step," a man's voice boomed from across the lot. The laser adjusted, quickly finding its way to Rarity's heart. "It would be a pity to ruin a pair of perfect breasts." She merely rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Books, what's going on? I heard a voice-"

"Everyone stop!" Twila cried. "Stupid... Of _course_ they'd put a sniper up here."

"No games. Hands above your heads. Down on your knees," he barked. The group could barely make out his silhouette as he reached to his belt, producing a radio. His gaze flickered for only the briefest of moments as he pushed down the talk button. "I have the suspects in the garage across from first and national. Requesting reinforcements."

"Granted. ETA one minute," a voice replied. Within a second, the groups earpieces buzzed on again.

"They're heading to the garage! Move!" Spike called out.

"Day late an' a dollar short on that one, sugar," Jack muttered as the man began walking towards them.

Chylene began to panic; the woman took breath after flustered breath, but couldn't fight her nerves. When one of his steps caused his sights to briefly move from Rarity's body, she took a chance, moving with a speed that could only be matched by Dash. She lunged and grabbed Mystery from behind by the neck, hugging him tightly against her chest. The woman then pressed a pistol to his temple and gazed defiantly at the sniper.

"One more step," she growled, her voice low and ominous, like a feral dog's snarl. "One more Goddamn step and I swear I'll blow his brains all over the walls. Ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt licking _pig_?! Try me! One. _More_._ STEP_," she roared, her eyes hard, burning coals and her lips curled back in an unseen sneer.

There was dead silence in the room. The others looked briefly at one another as Spike spoke over the mic once more.

"Woah,"Drake said. But the threat seemed to have done the trick-the sniper held his position, looking grimly at the group of robbers.

"You sure said it, Drake..." Pinkie replied, although it was mainly to herself. She stared at Chylene with disbelief, steadily getting up with heavy breaths. No doubt about it, the woman was terrifying.

Mystery took the cue. "Oh God, she's fucking _crazy_! I don't wanna die! Somebody _do something_!"

The sound of dozens of heavy footsteps from behind alerted the group that the cavalry was here.

"Hold!" the sniper bellowed, looking past the women. "They've got a hostage-no one move in yet."

"I _thought_ so," Chylene said, staring hard at the man, who was radioing the situation but otherwise stood stock still.

Jack didn't like this. It was a standoff that they couldn't hope to win. Between the rifleman in front of them and what could be dozens of guns behind them, there wasn't anything they could do. If she just went by odds, the police had a winning hand.

However, there was always a wild card in the deck, just waiting to be drawn...

000

Isabelle dashed across the smoky wreckage. She had stalled them for as long as she could-eventually, they stopped taking her bait and had simply stopped returning fire at her direction, instead focusing on the garage. Dash figured that they must have seen her friends enter it and were now fully concentrating their efforts on the others. As she got closer, she saw something that made her gut ache in fear.

Her friends stood inside the garage, a dozen or so steps deeper inside the building. The only thing separating Dash from the group was a squad of ten cops, all with their weapons drawn and aimed at her friends. Dash squinted and noted Chylene had her arm wrapped around Mystery's neck. Some kind of fake hostage attempt, maybe?

"Damn. We're in a tight spot," Dash muttered to herself, running a hand along her mask. She hid behind a large piece of rubble and checked her ammo.

Eight rounds. Four from Jack's revolver, four from her own gun. Even if she got a kill with every shot...

Dash took a breath, trying to install some courage into her system. "You got this, motherfucker. You _got_ this."

She didn't have this. She was so dead.

Even as she thought this, she crept forward, getting closer and closer to the cops.

When she got about ten feet away from the force, she acted, aiming and firing her beretta directly into the back of a man's skull. Before he had even collapsed or the others turned around, she moved her aim to another, popping off a second shot. They collapsed to the floor, dead. By now, the group had begun to turn around. She moved forward and squeezed off another shot from her beretta-it went wide, just missing another's head. Her last shot found its mark, punching another directly in the chest. He went down like a sack of bricks. Not dead, she noted. His body armor soaked up the shot. Even then, the impact left him writhing on the ground and clutching his sternum.

"Guys!" she called out, dropping her gun and reaching into her pants for Jack's handcannon in one blurred motion. While she wasn't the best shot of the group, she made up for it by being the quickest. She pushed forward, burying the barrel of the gun directly into a man's gut and firing. The shot ruptured through his body, soaking one of the others in a sea of gore. A cop to her left finally managed to aim his pistol and fire. The bullet slammed into her own gut like a punch, but thanks to her kevlar, Dash was simply winded. She countered by rising the .50 caliber and squeezing the trigger.

The revolver's blast impacted against the man's shoulder, nearly blowing it off of him. He looked down in horror at his ruined appendage as Dash fought back the urge to vomit. She gave him mercy in the form of another bullet that connected with his forehead, dropping him.

Dash swore under her breath as a policeman on either side of her aimed their guns and fired. She dropped down prone to the floor to avoid the policeman's rounds and fired her last shot, busting a melon-sized hole into one of their groins.

"Fuck!" the athlete roared, turning around onto her back and pointing the empty revolver at the still standing men. Dash closed her eyes, awaiting the inevitable gunshots.

They did come. But they didn't hit her.

Dash opened her eyes, seeing the fallen bodies of the policemen in front of her. Standing just behind them was Rarity, gun drawn and still smoking. She had a particularly smug look on her face.

"Not the most straightforward way of escaping but I'll take it," Twila said, giving Dash a hand up.

"After all that bragging, I still save your uncouth ass," Rarity said haughtily.

Meanwhile, between the threat against a supposed-hostage and the ensuing slaughter, the sniper stood half-dumbfounded for a moment too long. A moment enough for Chylene to trade rifle for pistol and fire three shots at the would-be assailant. One missed, but two met their mark and, with a grunt, the sniper fell to the ground, clutching his kneecap in agony. She then let go of Mystery, who briskly stepped away.

"Well there goes my eardrum..." he said quietly with a sigh, rubbing the side of his face. "But I'll take the hostage route out, if you don't mind. Then I'll get my payday_ and_ keep my job."

Twila looked the man over carefully, whispering "You know what this means, don't you?"

He winced but nodded. "I think I can handle a bump on the head. Just be-"

With a loud shout, Rarity pistol-whipped the back of his head, sending him falling flat to the ground, unconscious. "Useless hostage! We don't even need you anymore!" Her voice was shrill but hard, and she gave a melodramatic flourish of the weapon while putting on a pose.

"Nice one, Gems," Spike said flatly. "Now... _Get out of there_!"

Dash moved forward, past the group. "On your feet, ladies! _Move_!" she commanded, twirling a finger in a circle above her. "I'll scout ahead-make sure we don't hit any more surprises."

With that, she took off like a bullet, sprinting up a flight of stairs. She paused and gave the wounded sniper a once over, taking his pistol and rifle. She paused briefly at his wallet, noticing a photograph in one of his sleeves.

"Nice lookin' kids," she commented, tossing it back onto his chest.

The others followed her lead at a slower pace and by now it was easy to see how tired Pinkie had become. Her steps were sluggish and heavy, as were her breaths.

"Watch out fer Party," Jack panted quietly to Rarity, leaning hard on the lady's shoulder. "She's startin' ta look tuckered out."

"When did I become the medic? Besides, I've got you to look after." she said, though she did give the wounded woman a worried look.

"I know, jus..._ shit_," Jack spat in weary frustration, putting a weak hand to her forehead as she walked through the garage. "We hosed this one up good, didn't we? Surprised I ain't got everyone hurt, let alone killed."

"You can't think like that, Stetson. The good news is, no one did die and we've got the loot."

"Drake's right, Stetson. Though it didn't go perfectly, our mission has been completely successful," Twila said confidently.

"And best of all," Rarity added, "we'll never have to do anything like this again!"

"H-Hopefully..." Chylene squeaked, calmed down by now.

"Yeah..." Pinkie let out, her voice sounding like a drawn out sigh. She cleared her throat, adding in a more cheery voice: "Yep. Yep!"

The group trudged up the flights of stairs leading to the next floor. As they came to the apex of the second flight, they heard the tell-tale sign of an engine revving. Dash came barrelling around the corner, behind the wheel of one of her favorite custom jobs. She wordlessly beckoned the group over with frantic gesturing of her hands.

With everyone heaving various sighs of relief, the group managed one last burst of energy towards the vehicle, hefting their bulging duffels of money and depleted weaponry.

Jack grunted as she sat down at the passenger seat. She flicked a glance at Dash. "Can ya handle this thing good enough ta get us the hell outta dodge?"

"Glad your sense of humor didn't get shot off out there." Dash smirked. She gave a firm grip of the wheel and revved the engine. "This baby fits my hands like a pair of gloves. Just listen to how much she likes her mama."

Chylene ushered Pinkie into the car and the wounded woman almost collapsed against the seat. "Phew...I'm real hungry so take us home, Boltie..."

"Oh, home would be lovely," Chylene added, trying to find her seatbelt as Twila and Rarity entered the vehicle. When she couldn't find any seatbelts at all, she gripped the seat firmly, eyes widened.

"You know we can't do that-we've got to make sure they don't follow us to any recognizable location." Twila began organizing the duffels and empty guns, opening the compartment via the backseat to the trunk.

Dash shifted into gear and launched the car across the empty lot. She flew through the downward ramps, going so hard and fast that at one point the bumper hit the floor, showering the area behind them with sparks.

They skidded out onto the road; the athlete made a quick choice and turned left, roaring past a few wide eyed police standing near the bank. She blared her horn and flipped them off.

"_Dash_," Jack warned.

"Couldn't resist." She smirked.

"Please slow down! We're way above the speed limit!" Chylene screamed.

"Bolt! Bolt!" Spike's voice called out. Jack put a finger to her earpiece.

"She damaged her set," Jack explained.

"What?" Dash asked, glancing at the farmer.

"Barricades ahead, on 5th, Carney, and Main!" Spike exclaimed. The farmer could almost imagine how terrified he must look right now.

"Barricades?! Are ya shittin' me!" Jack spat, coughing hard into her hand.

"Fuckin' _what_!?" the athlete bellowed, clenching her fists against the wheel.

"He said on 5th, Carney and Main. There has to be another route we can take!" Rarity exclaimed.

Dash rolled up her mask halfway up her face. "Light me, hayseed. Glove compartment."

Jack reached down, letting out a small gasp when she grazed against her wound. She pulled out a package of smokes and a lighter. With a weak shake of her head, she produced two cigarettes and lit both. She put one in her own mouth and one in Dash's.

Isabelle took a grateful inhale and held it. After a beat, she let the nicotine out through her nostrils. "I memorized possible escape routes. The bookworm ain't the only one who makes plans. We can take a back alley just before hitting Main. Should be alright, as long as there isn't much junk through there."

"And if there is?" Twila asked. Dash laughed under her breath, the noise lacking humor.

"Well, eighty miles into a dumpster doesn't need too much of an explanation."

Chylene squeaked, wrapping her arms around her legs and closing her eyes. Pinkie had apparently fallen asleep, saying nothing.

The athlete skidded a left turn, nearly plowing into a gravel truck that was turning right.

"That fucker needs to watch the road!" the athlete shouted, leaning on her horn. She blasted through the traffic and cut a hard turn port side, screeching her wheels into a dark, dreary alley. She shot past the narrow aisle; at one point the walls closed in so tight that she lost both her side-mirrors.

"Sonofabitch," she mutely swore, so focused on not wrecking that the words had no heat or corrosive feel to them. Her unfinished smoke hung limply from her narrow lips. Then they were out into the open again, no worse for the wear. Isabelle cackled maniacally, nodding her head.

"Fuckin' right!" she exclaimed proudly, turning to look at her passengers in the backseat. "That's how you do things in my hou-"

"Watch the damn road!" they shouted in panicked unison.

"OK, OK. Damn," she muttered, turning to glare over the wheel.

They drove along the streets. Behind them, they could finally start to hear the faint cries of a police siren. "Too little, too late." Isabelle grinned, gunning down the gas pedal. "This bitch'll outrun anything!"

From behind a tall skyscraper came a sight that instantly dropped the smile from Dash's face. A black, sleek helicopter began heading straight towards them, lowering itself and turning to the side, opening a cargo hatch and exposing the faintest traces of a single man, laying in a prone position near the helicopter's rear. Though he was simply a speck at this distance, the group could already guess what he had.

Rarity gulped, staring at the chopper in horrified awe. "Drake, darling, I don't suppose you have any ideas up your sleeve right now?"

"If I did, I would have used them now, Gems. If you can _somehow_ shake the helicopter, you'll be home free, but..."

Rarity frowned, rubbing her brow. "Even with Bolt's impressive driving skills, I don't think we can-Mouse, what are you doing?!"

Chylene was holding her rifle up, looking down the sights straight at the chopper. Her face was a visage of grim determination despite her shaking hands. "L-Line me up, Bolt," she instructed, pressing her window button. Dash moved the car slightly to the right-Chylene leaned out of the vehicle and looked grimly down the rifle's scope. Through the sights, she could see that the man on the helicopter was preparing to aim. She aimed at him, then paused. Her finger flirted with the trigger as panic bubbled inside her stomach.

_What if I can't make the shot?_ she thought. If she missed this, they were done for. The sniper could pick them off at his leisure, or simply blow out one of Dash's tires. As fast as they were going, it would be a death sentence. The thought continued to swim in her head.

_What if I can't make the shot?_

_What if I can't make the shot?..._

_"What if I can't make the shot, Jack?" the taciturn girl asked, as the farmer and she stood overlooking one of the hills at Sweet Apple Acres. The stars and moon shone brightly on the two as they stared out into the distance, where a single, solitary tin can sat on the horizon, near the burnt, broken skeleton of what was once a persimmon tree._

_The farmer looked dumbfounded at her friend. "Then ya shoot again. We got all night. We'll make a good shot of ya yet."_

_Chylene blushed, embarrassed that she was misunderstood. "N-no. I mean, what if I... what if I can't make the shot w-when it matters?"_

_The farmer grinned and tilted her hat back. "Oh, that's all yer worried about? Don't be."_

_"W-why not?" the pink haired girl stammered. Jack looked hard at the woman._

_"Because I _know_ ya, sugar. Yer one of the most dependable gals I know."_

_"But-"_

_"If something like that ever happens. I know you'll do fine. You know the most important part 'bout shootin' when it's all on the line? Ya don't aim with yer eyes..." Jack looked expectantly at her friend, waiting for the meek woman to finish._

"You aim with your heart." The quiet woman ignored the sniper taking aim from the helicopter, instead aiming her sights to the flying vehicle's fuel storage. She knew it would be a long, arching shot that would be affected by wind and distance. If she was off even slightly, they were _dead_.

She aimed with her heart, pulling the trigger and hoping.

The crack of thunder sounded off in her hands and her shot was brilliant-it missed the tank, instead punching through the glass of the cockpit and hitting the helicopter pilot square though his helmet. His corpse twitched a violent death throw and brushed against the helicopter's controls, causing it to spin erratically towards the ground. It crashed behind a building, but judging by the smoke, they didn't have to fear it coming back for them.

The group stared wide eyed at the telltale sign of the crash; except Pinkie, who somehow managed to sleep through the fiasco.

"_Damn_ Mouse," Dash said, putting her focus back on the road.

"I... I meant to hit the gas tank..." Chylene quietly replied under her breath, reclining back in her seat.

Letting out another collective sigh of relief, everyone paused as an obvious realization hit them.

"W-we made it," Dash said, unbelieving. She tore off her mask and broke out into a full-toothed grin. "I-I can't believe we made it!"

The sound of Spike's laughter went through everyone's radios, "Haha! Yes! We did it! Man...I knew you girls could pull it off. Okay, maybe there were some bumpy moments but still...success!"

"Well ladies, drinks are on me tonight," Rarity stated, running a hand through her hair.

Twila shook her head. "I won't have any time... I'll have to count our takings, compare it to what we owe, make sure any necessary bribes are paid... I'm afraid the work is only half over!"

Rarity made a sound of disapproval. "Really Twila, you should allow yourself this after everything we've gone through."

The farmer stared out her window. She rolled it down and flicked out the remains of her cigarette. "I'm gonna have ta raincheck myself, Rare. Though I expect ta cash in on yer offer later."

000

They rode for just shy of an hour once they escaped the city, taking back routes and doubling back across the suburbs. Once Twila made absolutely, positively certain that they weren't being followed, they hit one of the lonesome, rarely used roads leading west. The road took them across the grasslands. Their green seas contrasted the evening golds. Even Dash, with her urge to fly the beast they rode in, slowed down to take in the view.

By now, everyone had calmed down. Chylene had bandaged Pinkie's wound to stop the bleeding, and Pinkie herself was now leaning against her. Both were fast asleep. Twila was lost in her own world, doing the initial calculations to see where they stood financially, while Rarity was having a quiet conversation with an increasingly tired Spike.

Jack weakly smiled at the open and free fields crossing past her window. "Reminds me of the farm. Or, well, the farm back... back before..."

"Yeah. It does," Isabelle agreed, running a hand through her rainbow-hued hair. A memory came to her. "I remember when we used to race, like, all the damn time on foot. We'd go from one fencepost in your west forty and touch a tree on a hill. Remember that?"

Jack shifted in her seat to face the athlete. The pain in her chest briefly reminded her of the gravity of their actions, but she pushed it away. She needed this. "I remember, Izzy. It was a persimmon tree, all up on its lonesome there. Do you remember... anything else 'bout the tree?"

Isabelle smiled, reaching for the tanned woman's callused hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You know, until that night I never knew you could moan _quite_ li-"

Jack's mood did a complete reversal, she slapped Dash hard on the shoulder. "Shush. We got ourselves others in the car. I was _talkin'_ bout what we put on there."

"Oh yeah..." Isabelle said, rubbing her shoulder. "Our initials."

"Eyup." Jack turned, facing the front once more. "It's gone now, the tree. I know it's dumb ta... ta be thinkin' bout somethin' like that when we lost jus' bout everythin' there, but... but..." She sniffed hard, wiping her nose with a sleeve. Her face contorted as she fought back the urge to cry.

"I know, babe. I know." Dash reassured, rubbing Jack's outstretched hand with a thumb. "We'll make it. We're _gonna_ make it right. OK?"

"OK," Jack agreed, nodding her head once. She stared at her wound.

"How's that feeling?"

"Like I got shot, sugar."

Dash narrowed her eyes as she kept her attention to the road. "You know what I mean."

"It hurts like hell, but I think I was lucky. Now that I've sat a spell, I don't feel so weak."

The athlete nodded grimly. They drove for a few miles in complete silence.

"I gotta know something... after all that, how you feeling...?" Dash made a small gesture towards her own chest. "You know."

The farmer quirked a brow. "Nah. I don't."

"You know..." She gave a blunt look towards the farmer. "_Inside_."

The farmer caught onto her meaning. "I, uh, reckon I hadn't thought 'bout it. I'm _tryin_' not ta think 'bout it as hard as I can, ya know?"

"Y-yeah. Same." She blew out a breath. "Hell, who am I kiddin'? I'm going around in fuckin' circles in my head about the whole damn thing." Isabelle looked to the makeshift bandage around her arm. "We're killers."

Jack sighed in mute agreement and returned to staring out her window. "Eyup. Ain't no matter how ya slice it. Not all of those fellas coulda been the Queen's lapdogs. Some of 'em had to of jus' been doin' their job."

"They had families. Friends. _Shit_, Jack." Dash heaved a sigh. "It hurts, man."

"I know, sugar. I know." The farmer empathetically nodded. She gave a sideways glance to the backseat's occupants. "But we gotta be strong. Fer their sake, we gotta be the cold ones, ya know?"

The athlete bit at her lip. "I just wish they didn't have to get their fuckin' hands dirty."

They drove into the fading evening light for almost an hour of silence. Just as Jack was about to fall asleep, Dash blurted out, "When we get back, I'm gonna plant a persimmon tree. Right out front."

Jack cleared the cobwebs from her mind and took a moment to process the athelete's words. After a beat, Jack smiled, touched at the athlete's gentle words. "Y-yeah, Dash. That'll be somethin' ta look forward to."

The night came, and with it, thousands of stars, each one promising a bright morning.

000

"What the fucking hell do you mean, 'we're still shy?'" Dash roared at the cell phone. Spike winced at the athlete's temper, despite being safely behind his monitor on the other end of the line at the Hub.

"I don't know what happened!" the young man said defensively.

"I'll tell you what happened," came Twila's calm, steady voice. She raised one finger. "Jack." Then another. "And Pinkie. Not only did we have to pay for _all_ of their hospital bills, we also had to bribe the doctors." Then she made a general gesture around the five. "Not to mention, Jack only _borrowed_ to pay for this. We had to pay it back, or risk detection."

On the other side of the speaker phone, Pinkie sat upright in her hospital bed, swallowing a cupcake harshly and putting the bowl of them to the side. "Oh... I'm sorry Twila," she said sincerely, "But only eating cupcakes wouldn't make me feel better. Trust me, I've tried," she peered into the bowl. Only one cupcake was left. "They sure were tasty though!"

Pinkie looked to Jack, in the bed next to hers. "Want the last one?"

"I reckon she's fine without," the deep, rumbling voice of Big Macintosh spoke up from the side of the bed.

"Don't be silly, Maccy! A cupcake makes _anything_ better!" Pinkie outstretched her arm, cupcake in hand.

"Well if you're offerin', don't mind if I do!" Alice said, snatching the cupcake and gobbling it down.

The brickhouse of a man seemed to debate saying something to Dash, but held his tongue. He instead gave a small pat to the sleeping Jack's shoulder. No matter how strong she looked, no matter how strong he knew she was, seeing her like this, with his massive hand wrapped around a shoulder hurt worse than he could imagine, always brought to home just how fragile they each were-and just how important their family bonds were.

"Sorry, sis," he quietly said, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hear him through the drugs and painkillers they had pumped her with, but not caring. It wasn't like he was used to being heard anyway.

"Don't worry about her, Mac," Alice said, going up to her older brother and squeezing his hand. "She'll be fine. She's always fine." She frowned a tad at Jack, a pit of worry still in her stomach.

"Well duh! She's Jack Apple! _The_ Jack Apple!" Pinkie exclaimed, waving her arms about. The rapid movement sent some sharp pain through her wounded arm, so she stopped, wincing.

"So... i-if we're still short," Chylene's voice sounded from the phone, "what does that mean for... what we did?"

Back in the Hub, Rarity gave a worried look and cried, "We're not going to need to do something like that again, are we?"

"Maybe me, Belle and Scoots can get a paper route or somethin'." Alice suggested.

"I've got an idea, actually," said Spike cooly. He began clicking furiously at his computer, Twila behind him, watching. "I've been keeping tabs on the Camelot upper crust scene-politics, alliances and the like. And there's something big planned in a few months-I think we could snag an even bigger score than we did this time! It should even be easier: no guns, no cops. Just snatch and grab."

The woman behind him made a curious noise as she scanned the web pages he had brought up.

"But there's something even better at stake. The Tyrant has a listing of every single guard and diplomat under her beck and call. If we can get that..." Spike smiled. "Well, you know what it means. And it might be just be here, if the rumors I've been hearing are true! Just one more leap of faith, guys. I promise."

Twila looked down at the ground. "I don't know how many more 'leaps' we have left, Spike. Jack and Diane were both so close..." Her gaze hardened. "But that listing. It could literally change everything regarding the Tyrant. It's something we just can't toss aside. You know it, I know it, everybody in the room knows it." She sighed deeply and ran her hand across her neck.

"So what are we gonna do, Twila?" the young man asked, his eyes gleaming with eagerness.

She took a readied stance. "Set the wheels in motion, _Drake_. We're going in again."

**AN: A prologue to a collab effort between me and a few boys. Hope you guys liked it, and stay tuned for more excitement.**


	2. The Pieces to Play

The inside of the Hub was mostly dark and still, quiet save for the whine of the computer banks against the side wall, as it was most days. The only light was the faint glow of the screens, which brightened and darkened as the various images from news reports, security and surveillance cameras, and plain screensavers changed constantly. Stale and warm, the air was uncomfortable. It all had a very claustrophobic effect, which only worsened the tensions in the room. The silence didn't last long.

Twila pinched her nose, letting out a frustrated sigh as she said yet again what she'd been saying for the past two hours.

"Spike, you're not coming with us and that's final!" she said hotly.

"But Twilaaaa! I understand why I wasn't allowed to come last time, but a big, fancy party is hardly dangerous," argued the young man. Twila could remember only months ago that he would have done nearly anything she asked of him without question.

_Oh how they do grow up... Celestia, you said I could handle this, but I begin to wonder,_ she thought, trying to formulate a counter-argument.

"We don't know that for sure-that's the entire reason we make backup plans. Besides, we need you running Homebase again," she tapped him lovingly on the shoulder, "Drake."

Despite himself, Spike grinned as he grumbled, "Fine, but next time? I want to _really _help. Not just sit on the sidelines while you guys risk your lives."

She smiled warmly and gave him a slow nod. "Fair enough," she said. To herself, she thought, _Hopefully, there won't _be _a next time. Sorry to disappoint you, Spike._

Nodding back, he said, "OK, now that we've got that out of the way, should I get the girls down here for the mission briefing?"

"No time like the present. The party _is _the day after tomorrow, after all."

"Roger!" Spike double-timed it past Twila and up the stairs to the farm above, leaving Twila to her own thoughts. And doubts.

_I hope you're right, Spike. Last time was too close, too scary._ She began to chew her bottom lip as she paced across the room, a nervous habit from her youngest days. _What I wouldn't give to have you here, Big Brother. Or to at least know you're safe, alive._

"I'm not sure..." She stopped, choking back an unexpected sob. After the robbery, she had spent countless nights awake, crying and hurting, the visions of what they'd done flashing through her head-hadn't she shed enough tears? "I'm n-not sure if I can do this on my own."

000

Outside, the sun was shining brightly, though it held little warmth so early in the morning. Jack sat at the foot of her bed, staring out of her window. She had woken up later than normal-it seemed like anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Rubbing at her temples, Jack tried to force away the lingering effects from last night's drink. Not that the whiskey had helped her much to begin with. The freckled woman put her hands over her brow and exhaled deeply. From behind, she heard movement, then two warm arms wrapped around her neck.

"Morning, hayseed," Dash purred, her voice gravelly and scratchy with sleep. "What's up?"

"Nothin'," Jack deflected. She uncoiled herself from Isabelle's embrace and stood, trying her best to ignore the lithe woman's irritated frown. Without another word, she walked to a vanity mirror, sat, and took to combing her long blonde hair.

Dash rolled her eyes and put a hand to her cheek. It was going to be one of _those_ days, wasn't it? "'_Nothin_'' doesn't see you come to bed drunk three days in a row," Isabelle countered, rising to join the other.

"I'm _fine_." The tall woman scowled, continuing to comb her hair. "Ain't like you've never pulled one off before-"

"Cut the crap," Isabelle retorted dangerously, pointing a stern finger at the blonde. "Yeah, I've had my share of benders. But I know you. You're _never_ completely smashed outta your gourd unless something's up," Dash said, looking intently at Jack through the mirror's reflection. "I _know_ this has still gotta be eating you up, dude."

She rose with an intense scowl that quickly melted under Isabelle's gaze. The statuesque woman put a slow, considering hand to her mouth. "I was fine, 'til I realized we were goin' back on the job, ya know?" she finally admitted with a slump of her powerful shoulders. "I hadn't thought it'd eat at me like this-it's been_months_ now, but...you an' Diane almost died 'cause of how _I_ messed up, ya know?" She gazed wearily to the ceiling. "Not ta mention that jus' thinkin' bout what I did-what we _all_ did-hurts so bad I can feel it clawin' out my gut. It ain't jus' _us_ that had ta run though that shit. I-I know we can handle it, but I can't even _think_ what Pinkie or Chylene's goin' through right now, on top of havin' ta maybe go through this exact same shit _again_..." After she said her piece she sniffed, brutishly wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. "God, Izzy... I'm a mess."

Dash stepped forward and put her hands to Jack's waist. "A beautiful mess," she said, smirking warmly. Before the other could reply, Isabelle stood on her toes and kissed the blonde's mouth. She broke away and took her affections to Jack's chin. "One that's _always_ took care of me during the rough days..." She trailed down to the side of Jack's bronzed neck. "And one that's too damn proud to ask for help sometimes." Isabelle stopped her downward trip to focus her gaze just below Jack's collarbone-where a memento from their heist stood prominent on the otherwise smooth, freckled skin.

It couldn't be missed, the scarred indention, pink and tight, forming a near perfect circle the width of Dash's ring finger. Around it were a few red marks, where her kevlar had ruptured and stuck to her skin after the bullet had penetrated her defenses. Isabelle couldn't help but run her finger delicately around the scar. The tall woman winced briefly as Dash focused her attention on the wound. While Jack was far from Rarity regarding personal appearances, the scar made her feel garish, self-conscious.

The athlete thought it made Jack look absolutely sublime. It wasn't every day you found a woman willing to walk through death's door just to make sure things got set right for people. With that in mind, Isabelle leaned forward, giving the old injury a surprisingly tender kiss. When she broke away, she gave thought to her next words.

"We've known eachother since we were kids, hayseed. I don't think I've ever asked all that much of you, so...just...if it gets too hard, fuckin' _tell me_. You're a strong girl, but this is a two-way street, yeah? How many times have you had to listen to _me_ talk about everything that happened that day?" She weakly smiled, giving a tap to Jack's chest. "Hell, I'm surprised you never told me to shut up and stop whining."

Jack finally managed a small, tiny smile of her own. "Dash..." she addressed, looking into her partner's rose-colored eyes.

"Mmm?"

Jack's words seemed to briefly dry up for her. She had wanted to say everything swimming in her mind, but instead decided to focus on the core problem. "I'll try ta be better," the freckled woman swore.

"I know you will, _sug-ah,_" Isabelle said, doing her best to mimic Jack's heavy accent and failing. She glanced at the door. "So...I think we might have a bit before Mac tries to get you up...how about we..." She flicked her eyes over to the bed and smirked.

"That all ya think about, girl?" Jack replied, finally starting to feel a bit more like herself. The athlete had that effect on her. Among other, more primal, feelings... Jack looked over to the clock and put a hand on her hip. "Well, alright. Good thing yer pretty damn quick at _everythin' _you do..."

"_Hey,_" the short woman warned with a frown, moving towards the bed. She laid down on it, resting her head in her hand and smiling playfully as she watched Jack.

She followed Isabelle's lead, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. On freeing herself from the object, she tossed it to the side, took a slow, enticing step forward and-

"JACK 'N' DASH! COME DOWN FER BREAKFAST!" came the loud yell of Alice.

Before either of them could share their incredibly heated resentment, a cough from the room's door was heard, followed by, "Oh, well, there's that and...uh...Twila wants to meet in the Hub for a briefing." It was Spike. "And I didn't hear anything." Another cough. "At all."

Jack held onto what little dignity she had left and didn't turn to face the door she knew he was behind. Instead, she focused her gaze at a spot on the wall, while wishing she could shrivel up and die. "O-OK, Spike. I'm glad ya didn't hear nothin'. 'Cause there wasn't _nothin'_ ta hear. No sir. Not-"

"You're _so_ bad at that-quit while we're ahead, Jackie," Dash ordered in a whisper. She put on a large, false smile and looked towards the doorway. "Alright, Spike. We'll be down in just a minute."

"R-right! See ya...in a minute then." He seemed unsure. "I've gotta go find Rarity and Pinkie, anyway." There was another pause before they heard his loud steps leading away from the door.

Isabelle couldn't help it-she turned red and burst into a hearty guffaw, clutching at her sides. Tears of mirth streaked down her face as she rolled around on the bed in an attempt to get herself under control. "Never a d-dull moment with you, man. Never a dull moment."

000

Spike could feel the heat in his face as he headed down the stairs of the Apple homestead-it wasn't his fault Jack and Dash decided to do..._that_...so early in the morning. He was just doing his job.

"Speaking of...now where on earth could Pinkie be?" he asked himself. Chylene had been found in the kitchen, helping Alice with breakfast. The quiet woman had always been an early riser and was fond of cooking.

Heading outside, he decided to go for broke. "Oh Piiiinkiiiiiie!" he called.

In the distance, he could see a dust trail forming behind someone on a bicycle. Heading straight for him at an incredible speed. He quickly leapt to the side to avoid a possible collision, hearing the sound of screeching brakes. Looking up, behind him he saw Pinkie on a pink bicycle, wearing a pink helmet to match. It was good to know that at that speed, she was at least being safe.

"You called, Spike?" she asked cheerfully.

He let out a nervous breath. "Geez, Pinkie...um... Yeah, breakfast is ready and Twila wants everyone to meet in the Hub for the next mission briefing." He took another look at the bicycle. "What are you doing, Pinkie? Biking so early...?"

"There isn't a law against it, is there? Plus, biking is soooo great! I don't have my driver's license yet, so this is how I get around. It's easier than using Sarah's scooter, for sure. When I use that, only one of my legs gets tired, but on a bike, the tiredness is shared!" Pinkie rambled excitedly. "Anyway, I'm starved!"

Pinkie put her bike and helmet against the building and rushed inside to eat before Spike could even formulate a reply.

"Uh... Guess Rarity's next. Gonna have to hoof it to get to the grotto in time."

It hadn't taken long for Spike to memorize Rarity's daily schedule down to the minute. Any morning after she stayed overnight at the farm-which had become increasingly often as of late-she'd take her morning bath at a nearby spring. The cool, pure water, or so she claimed, was best for her very sensitive skin.

Spike had learned the routine easily enough. First, run the quarter mile or so to the edge of the spring, then close eyes. Then walk along the stream until...there, a large boulder that his foot would hit. Then announce.

"Rarity! It's me, Spike. I've got an important message for you."

Five seconds, then reply. "Oh, Spike! Good morning, sweety. What's this about a message?"

The young man could feel his blush as he quickly pushed down the thought that one of the most beautiful women he'd ever known was talking to him from her bath. He'd met Rarity when he was only twelve, crushing on her quickly. Twila had found it cute and said it would fade, but it never did-it only grew deeper. But no less one-sided.

"Spike? Are you still there?"

Snapping from his wandering thoughts, he said, "Uh, y-yeah. Sorry. The message. Right. Twila says she wants everyone to meet in the Hub to talk about next plan. And breakfast is ready."

"Already? I wasn't even close to finished." She let out a sigh. "Alright, thank you, Spike. I'll be along shortly!"

"Not a problem, Rarity. I'll see you at breakfast."

He began the about face to head back to the farmhouse when she called out, "Oh, actually, Spike, be a dear and hand me my towel-I've forgotten it on the rocks, and that wind is a bit too cold for me to get it myself."

"Right away, Rarity!" he enthused. "Um... How am I supposed to do that when I can't see?"

He heard a slightly frustrated noise. "Now, Spike, I know you're a gentleman, so go ahead. I trust _you_, of course."

Spike couldn't believe his ears-he could open his eyes? His mind raced with possibilities, but he shut them all down as soon as they sprouted. She was right. He was a gentleman and above such appalling-though appealing-behaviors.

Bringing up his mental map of the place to avoid looking towards the direction the spring pool was, he opened his eyes and scanned for the large stone Rarity used as a makeshift table. As he figured, there sat her large, fluffy towel next to...

"Clothes!" he squeaked.

"What was that, Spikey? You OK, dear?"

"Uh, f-f-fine! Just fine. Getting your towel now! Be there in two shakes." Careful to avoid looking at the (_Silky... Lacy... Black?! Oh why _black?!) neat stack of clothes, he grabbed the towel and walked quickly over the small rise that led down into the depression holding the pool.

Too quickly he found, when his foot caught another rock, causing him to stumble forward. Combined with gravity, the young man was unable to stop himself from crashing right into the pool and the chilly waters within. The world spun as he fell straight to the bottom, the towel tangling around him not helping. He'd never been a strong swimmer, even though the spring wasn't very deep, and as the little breath he'd manage to suck in ticked away in his surprise, he began to desperately try and kick his way to the surface.

That's when he felt a firm grip around the neckline of his hoodie pull him up, hard. Breaking the surface, his breaths came quick and ragged. He would've laughed if he could-the only thought on his mind was the wonder if the farm air had always tasted so good.

A moment later, the worried voice of Rarity broke through his fading panic. "Spike! Spike, talk to me-are you alright?"

He coughed out a bit of water before croaking, "Y-yeah, just caught me by surprise is all. Thanks, Rarity-you really...save..."

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that last part, Spike, dear," she said, concern still evident on her face. She had pulled him up from the deeper end of the pool to the shallows, holding him up and out of the water.

Spike had finally noticed that Rarity was still quite naked. Above the water. With him in her arms.

"Spike." There was just enough of a warning to the tone that allowed him to finally find some words for reply.

"Oh uh!" He turned away, pulling up the now completely soaked towel. "Your, uh, towel?"

Turning him around, Rarity grabbed the towel and said, "Thank you, Spike. Run along back to the farmhouse, and tell them I'll be right there. Hurry now, before you catch cold!"

Still slightly in disbelief, Spike slowly nodded as he trudged back out of the pool and towards the house.

When he was gone, Rarity threw the towel back on shore, frustrated. She'd known about his little crush for a long time-it was sweet, it really was-but she had hoped he would have grown out of it by now.

"Instead, he gets a complete view of _moi, au naturale_..." She sighed, rubbing her arms and legs to dry herself in the cool air as best she could. So why did she feel so warm? It was terribly uncouth, him seeing her like that... But she had seen it in his eyes-it hadn't been flat desire or lust. He'd genuinely been appreciating her beauty.

"Spike, you're such a sweetheart, it's almost painful," she whispered, gathering her clothes and getting dressed. "Another problem for another time, I feel."

Nodding to herself, she picked up the soiled towel-careful not to let it brush her nice, clean clothes-and headed the same way Spike had gone, eager for a warm breakfast and her mind still in wonder over the actions of one innocent young man.

000

Jack got halfway presentable and tromped her way down the stairs, Isabelle trotting along just behind her. She sniffed the air and nodded. Coffee, ham omelets and a side of sausage. Years of anticipating her grandma's cooking had crafted Jack's nose into a scent machine, able to predict just about any meal before she even spotted it.

She took a seat at the head of the table, acknowledging Macintosh with a nod. Dash plopped herself down at the center, while Alice sat next to the colossal man, buttering a piece of toast. Pinkie was already sitting opposite Mac, having formed a jam beard already. Chylene meanwhile, was standing at the kitchen counter, still preparing food.

The burly man glanced over the women sitting at the table and felt very much the minority. Regardless, he cleared his throat and quietly asked, "Anyone wanna say grace?"

Pinkie paused halfway through taking another bite of toast. "Oh!" she muffled before swallowing, "We're meant to say that before eating?"

"If ya don't wanna, we don't have ta. Jus' what our Granny taught us ta do," he said, his face a usual mask of casual indifference.

"Well, we'll play by Apple rules since we're in the Apple household!" Pinkie exclaimed, putting down her toast.

"Alrighty. Chy? Ya ok with it?"

Chylene turned around, a sweet smile on her face. "Of course I am. Please, go on."

The brickhouse of a man cleared his throat and kneaded his large fingers together. "Uh..." he trailed off in thought as to what to say. Being a man of few words, it came to him fairly quickly. "Bless this meal ta the nourishment of our bodies, an' protect us in all our upcomin' trials. Amen."

A chorus of amens went around the room and, with Chylene taking a seat next to Macintosh, the meal properly began.

Jack chewed methodically at her omelette, nodding in appreciation at its flavor. "Ya do these, Chylene?"

"Oh yes, but-"

"I helped!" Alice exclaimed, raising a hand and grinning proudly.

"Um, yes, Alice was very helpful," Chylene finished.

"Good work, sweet pea." Jack weakly smiled. Her red-haired sibling returned the gesture, but it was a lot stronger.

Pinkie gave Jack a quick glance. "Hey, Jack!" she yelled, getting up, "I wanna show you this really cool bug I found outside!" Giggling, she grabbed the farmer's arm before she could protest and led her outside.

They stopped around the back of the house, and Pinkie let go of Jack. "Okay, there's no bug," Pinkie admitted, her face taking on a worried look, "but something is bugging you."

"Ain't nothin' I can't handle," Jack gruffly dismissed, tired of seemingly _everyone_ trying to get into her head today.

"If that was true, you'd be fine by now," Pinkie retorted, her voice serious, but also sincere.

That hit her hard. The blonde grit her teeth. "How do ya feel _fine_ after what we did, Di? Ya have any idea what it feels like havin' ta talk ta Alice 'bout why I got shot up? She's a smart kid-she's gotta know that I ain't tellin' her the whole story. If she ever finds out all the blood I got on my hands...all the blood I got on _yers_..." her voice cracked.

"Try telling the same thing to a couple with _babies_. The Cakes could've thrown me out for what I did... If I had told them everything anyway..." Pinkie scuffed a foot across the grass, looking down. "I can't..." She stopped herself, shaking her head so rapidly Jack thought it'd fly off. "This isn't about me. It's all about _you_, Jackie!" she stated slightly more cheerfully, poking Jack in the chest.

"There ain't nothin' more ta say," Jack protested, crossing her arms.

"Please, Jack," Pinkie said softly, taking hold of the farmer's hands. "I don't like it when you're down. It...it scares me."

"It scares _ya_? Welcome ta every. Damn. _Day_ of my life after that heist. You got any idea how often I think 'bout that shit!?" She pointed hard at Diane. "A foot or so over an' that bullet that took a bite outta ya would have killed ya instead. Same goes fer Dash. An' that'd be yer blood on _my_ hands. Some of us can't jus' bounce back from somethin' like that-somethin' that could have ended with one of my best friends dead, an' my-" She sucked in a trembling breath. "An' Dash, _gone_." The blonde subconsciously rubbed at her bullet wound. "It's one thing fer me ta die doin' this. I'm willin' ta accept that risk ta make sure that _whore_ sittin' on Camelot's throne gets what's comin'. It's a whole 'nother _ballgame_ knowin' how y'all were..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "How y'all were so close..."

"Everyone's hurting, Jack. I can tell. But they're not focusing on that..." Pinkie gave Jack a small hopeful smile. "You gotta learn how to block out the badness. Especially now in these crazy times. If you don't, it builds up, and then you get to a point of no return. Just give me a smile Jackie, that's all I'm asking."

"I'll smile when I start feelin' good again. That's the best I can promise."

Pinkie's lips settled, becoming a neutral line. "Is there nothing I can do...?"

Jack gave it some consideration, trying her best to keep the other's spirit up now that the anger she had felt in her gut died down. Finally, she put her hand on the pink-haired girl's shoulder and leaned in close. "You can take care of everyone else. Jus' knowin' the girls are doin' fine'll help me out more than you'd think-'specially Chylene an' Twila. Ok?"

"Okay, Jackie, I'll try." Pinkie turned to leave but had second thoughts, enveloping Jack in an almost bone-crushing hug that lasted a few seconds, before walking back inside the house.

Jack moved to follow her, but realized she didn't have much of an appetite after the serious conversation with the enthusiastic woman. With a frown and a somber shake of her head, she headed to her barn and down into the Hub.

**AN: This beings the ongoing story. If you're eager to view what me and the other people working on this with me have so far, feel free to read it at fimfiction story/80597/diamond-in-the-rough **

**You can also find the first chapter of this fic as a separate doc at fimfiction story/69329/fools-gold**

**Expect this to be updated at least semi-regularly for a bit. Thank you kindly for the support.**


	3. Tests and Tears

Dash leaned back in her chair, letting a satisfied belch pass through her system. She gave a nod to Pinkie as the woman returned to her seat. What really drew the athlete's attention, though, was when Spike entered the house. His face was so flushed and red that Isabelle actually thought something was wrong with the kid. Then she remembered _where_ he went earlier, and it clicked.

A slow, predatory grin crossed her lips as she rose from the chair and walked over to the young man. She leaned an elbow onto his shoulder. "So, squirt. Did you _finally_ catch a peek?" she whispered to him in a conspiring tone, a bit too interested in hearing his story.

Spike just sat there, expressionless, motionless. Slowly he turned to look at Dash, his face breaking into a smile that she could only call awesome in the most traditional of senses.

"Bro," she addressed proudly, offering a fist to the young man.

"I have seen angels." His voice was shaky and a little breathless as he returned the gesture. A loud growl emanated from his stomach, wiping the smile off his face as he looked to the still mostly-laden table. "Uh, is the food ready? I'm starving!"

"Hell yeah. Eat, eat." Dash gestured to the plethora of food on the table. "World's your oyster, champ. Live it up!" After giving Spike a shove in the right direction, she headed towards the door. "Guess I'll go and hit up Twila. Might as well get a good seat for the lecture." She gave a small wave of her hand in farewell.

His mouth full of toast and ham, he called out to her, "'F you see Rarity, don' say nothin'!"

"Heh," Dash laughed, opening the door and closing it shut behind her.

Spike swallowed. "Twila's probably wondering where we all are, so we better hurry," the young man said to Chylene and Pinkie.

Pinkie enthusiastically nodded, shoveling bite after bite into her mouth. Her cheeks distended from the abundance of food she had crammed into her mouth, and crumbs flew freely with every bob of her head. She was done with her meal in roughly about two minutes, then quickly got up and chucked her plate and cutlery in the sink.

"All done, full up and ready to roll!" she announced, before rushing out the door. Chylene nervously smiled, still slowly and delicately cutting into her food with a knife and fork.

"Aren't ya gonna follow 'em?" asked Alice.

Chylene twitched a bit before replying, quietly, "I'm not sure if I should really go or not..."

Swallowing a bite of omelet, Mac noticed the uncomfortable squirm to Chy's posture. "This sure is delicious, Chy," he said, deflecting the topic. He got a slightly annoyed look from Alice, but he went on, "I sure did miss yer cookin'. It's as good as ever."

She blushed lightly, giving a small, "Thank you." Mac knew she meant it for more than just the omelet. The two had briefly dated, the big man being her first lover. She had spent several nights-surprising all her friends-over at the farmhouse, and thus several mornings. While it hadn't lasted, it had ended mutually enough and the two had remained friends. So he could always read between the lines.

But the young woman shook her head and said, "It's alright, Mac. I just... I don't know what I can do. The last time was so scary...and I don't know if I can do it again." She set her fork down, placing her trembling hands in her lap. "What if I freeze? What if one of our friends d-doesn't come h-home because I-"

"That's enough," Mac said firmly, but not unkindly. She looked up, surprised. "I don't know what the future holds for y'all, Chy, or even what exactly you girls did. What I _do _know is my sister is alive thanks to ya. That's all you, Chy." He gave her a warm smile reminiscent of their nights together. "And I'd be able ta sleep a bit better at night knowin' you're with 'em, keepin' an eye on everyone."

Alice looked from the quiet Chy to her brother's smile. "I'm not sure I really get it, but...y'all are a team, aren't ya? It's not the same if you don't go, Miss Chy. It'd be like me an' Sweetie goin' off without Scoots. With jus' the two of us, we're not really the Crusaders, y'know?"

Chylene gave a slow nod before placing one of her hands on the big Apple's-it had always made her feel so safe, how much bigger he was than her and yet so careful, so gentle. "Thank you," she said, then to Alice, "and you, too, Alice. Go ahead and finish breakfast, OK? I'll wash the dishes later."

Scooting his chair up, Mac began gathering the dishes, nodding for Alice to do the same. "Don't you worry about that, Chy. We'll take care of the house, make sure y'all have a home to come back to when you're finished."

"I'll make us a big meal to celebrate, with all your favorites, Mac."

"Lookin' forward to it," he said simply, still gathering dishes. With that, the young woman returned her chair to its place in the table and headed for the Hub.

It was time for a meeting and Chylene didn't want to be late.

When Jack entered the Hub, she found it empty, much to her surprise.

"Twila? Ya'll here or what?" she asked the mostly dark room, to no reply. That was strange-whenever Twila had sent Spike in the past to gather them for a meeting, she'd always been present, ready and waiting for everyone else to show up. She and Jack didn't always get along-Jack being more down to earth in her lifestyle than the studious Twila-but the farmgirl always gave her dear friend credit where credit was due: she was an excellent leader, caring and thoughtful. Jack trusted her more than most, which is what made her absence all the stranger.

After pulling off the bank heist months ago, Twila had taken up the overarching workings of their increasingly complicated plot against the Tyrant. While Jack's stake had been mostly personal retribution for her family's farm, Twila's was not only personal but honestly tied into her entire reason for living. She was also naturally focused, sometimes too much so-Jack had lost her nights to her nightmares, but she knew Twila had lost even more to just the general _workload_ of their plans. Still, as she had found out over their developing friendship of the past three years, Twila could get the job done, especially with the help of Jack and the rest.

There weren't many rooms to the Hub-the main entrance which doubled as the meeting room, the firing range and storage room, the emergency stores down another level, a few smaller rooms with military grade cots, and the small mess and dining area.

It was from there she heard the sobs.

The woman took a few slow, careful steps towards the door. She nudged the door open, taking in the sight. Twila-cool, calm, rational Twila-sat at the simple metal table, her head in her hands, her eyes red from crying. Through the wracking sobs, Jack occasionally caught a murmur of things like 'Big Brother' and 'not strong enough'. So focused on her own thoughts and feelings, she didn't even notice Jack entering the room.

Jack rubbed at the back of her neck. She wasn't the best at comforting crying women-a trait most Apples seemed to share. Regardless, she put on a brave face and moved to the table Twila sat at. "Uh..." Jack started, then scowled. _You're smooth as butter,_ she sarcastically thought.

"I wondered who would be the first down here to see me like this," Twila's reply was bitter. "I guess life really has a sense of humor making it you, Jack."

"What do ya mean by_ that_?" she defensively asked. Shaking her head, she said, "Look, nevermind that. What's wrong?" Moving and sitting across the table, Jack looked over the bookworm.

Twila raised a finger in a not-so-fast gesture. "Can't nevermind if you ask what's wrong." She threw her hands down on the table. "What's wrong is that you're all trusting me! I mean, _me_! Really? Am I missing the punchline, because it seems like a really poor joke."

"As compared ta when I nearly got everyone killed at the bank?" Jack bluntly replied. She swallowed, refusing to go back on that train of thought for a _third_ time today. "L-look, Twi. Yer better at plannin' this than I ever could be. You've got the noggin' fer it. If anyone deserves ta be called boss, it's you. I-" The farmer narrowed her eyes and tapped hard on the table with her finger. "_We_ trust you because we know you're the best chance we got on makin' it out alive if somethin' goes ta shit. If there's a punchline ta this whole damn thing, then I'm missin' it too, pardner."

Twila turned her back to her as she replied, "And I showed just how good I am at this there, didn't I? Like you said-for too many of us it was so close..." Her voice broke, but she went on. "Sure, Jack, I've got the book smarts. I can make a plan, do the research, calculate the odds-all beforehand, I can make it perfect. But what does that even _matter_? Even Chylene did a better job at improvising than I did! I can't..." Another sob. "I c-can't keep you guys safe. My best friends, and I can't keep you safe from this."

She turned and gave Jack the hardest look the farmer had ever seen. They had been through some tough times over the past three years, but Twila had never had a look like that before. It was strong, solid, and yet, Jack was sure if hit in the right place it would shatter to splinters. "I'm not strong like you, Jack. Maybe I can make the plan-but what if I can't see it through? If any of you were lost... But I've already lost someone, remember? My own brother."

"Then ya make sure he didn't die in vain," Jack said, as gently as she could. After a beat, her mouth turned into a thin, grim line. "Ya hit that bitch with all ya got, every _chance_ ya got. Ya take away her money. Ya take away her power, ya take away her _children_. You take away everything she took from us." She pointed a finger at Twila. "I know ya, Twi. I know yer the best chance we've got ta take care of business. An' while I might not know much, I know business, ya hear?" Jack wanted to add more, but she couldn't think of anything. Words had never been her specialty. "...I trust ya, Twi."

"I hope I can make good on that, Jack," she said quietly. "I'm grateful to hear you say it, and I'm sure the others would say the same thing but..." Her determined look faded, showing the unease she had been hiding for months. Jack noticed the woman's fists were clenched so hard they shook. "Everything's fallen apart since that day. I don't even know what I'm really doing anymore. I realize now that I've been too dependent on everyone else for too long. ...and I'm scared-no, terrified-that that's changing."

_"Big Brother, I don't know if I can do this..." came a young girl's voice from the other room._

_The young man laughed, replying with, "That's a first. _My _little sister? Not sure she can do something? Am I even awake right now?" He gave another hearty laugh._

_A head poked out of the doorway-the girl's dark hair was up in pigtails, her left dark purple and her right mostly lavender pink from the few stripes of it in her hair. Her face was scrunched up and slightly red from frustration. She'd been getting ready for the past two hours._

_"It's not funny, you big lummox! Today's a _really _important day! The rest of my life will be determined by today's test, and if I mess even the _tiniest _thing up, I'm going to be miserable forever!" The man gave another laugh, doubling over and holding his sides. She let out a loud growl of frustration and went back inside her bedroom, slamming the door behind her._

_"Oh, c'mon, Twily, don't be so childish. Even if you don't make the Royal Academy-and we all know you will-there's tons of options for you. Mom and Dad would be proud of you no matter where you go."_

_"That's easy for _you _to say!" Her response was a bit muffled, so he stepped closer to the door. "Mr. Youngest Valedictorian in a Hundred Years, Clearly Captain Material with Top Honors!"_

_"That's not the same thing, Twila. The Military Academy isn't exclusive, at least not up front. I didn't have to take a test or anything-just sign my name."_

_Silence was the only reply from beyond the door._

_"C'mon, Twily-you're a Shields! And since when did a Shields ever fail at anything they put their mind to?" he said encouragingly._

_"...never..." came the girl's voice, tiny and still mostly unsure. He knew what was going on through her head, the images and stories of their family's heroic and noble deeds. They'd been his favorite bedtime stories at her age, too._

_He opened the door, exclaiming, "Exactly! And Twila Shields is the best of the best!" He found her room completely empty. "Twily?"_

_There was a faint sniffling sound coming from the far end of the bed. He followed it to find her curled in the space between her bedside table and the wall-he often forgot how small she was for her age. She was crying and clutched her favorite and oldest doll-Smarty Pants-tight to her chest._

_"What are you doing, Twily? We're going to be late if y-"_

_"I can't do it!" she cried, cutting him off. "I'm gonna fail, Big Brother! Fail miserably and be a worthless disgrace to the whole family forever and ever!"_

_He frowned and lowered himself into a kneel in front of her. Looking up, Twila's breath caught as she saw what the instructors at the Military Academy had seen: the intensity of the truth and concern in his face. She had always been close to her brother; despite their age difference, the two got along immensely. He had always been there for her, always done things with and for her. She knew him, better than most. But even still, seeing his face-all calm and determination, like the knights in the stories her parents told her-still filled her with awe and respect._

_"Twily," he began, his voice firm but caring, "you will _never _be a disgrace to this family. You will _never _be worthless. You're a Shields, but more than that, you're _Twila _Shields. Your future is going to be better than you can imagine, I guarantee it."_

_She rubbed at her teary eyes and sniffed uselessly to stop her runny nose. "Y-you really think so, Big Brother?"_

_His smile filled her up from head to toe with warmth and confidence. Rubbing her hair, he said, "I _know _so, Twily. You're smarter than me!" She shook her head and he laughed. "No, I mean it." He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Cadence tells me that all time." He stood back up and put on a high-pitched voice. "Lewellyn Shields, you child! Lunkhead! Dolt! Why can't you be smarter, like your sister? Boys are so frustrating!"_

_Laughing, Twila grabbed a pillow off her bed at threw it at his head, scoring a direct hit. "Dork! She doesn't sound like that at all!" Then, half to herself, "You forgot to squeal that last word like she does."_

_"Excuse me, I do _not _squeal, thank you very much,' came a stern voice from the bedroom's doorway._

_"Cadence!" Twila cried, bowling past her brother to tackle the young woman with her best hug. "I thought you weren't coming back anymore!" Twila remembered how upset she had been when Cadence had told her she wasn't going to be babysitting her any longer._

_Returning the hug, the young woman said, "How could I not see my favorite little girl-oh, excuse me, young woman-on her big day? Lew and I are going to take you to the exam together, if that's OK with you?"_

_Twila jumped up and down in delight, crying, "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" She remembered herself-and how grown up she was supposed to be now-and calmed, then she gave both Lew and Cadence knowing looks. "You two can take me, but no mushy stuff until I'm taking the exam, got it?"_

_Her brother instantly blushed but Cadence merely laughed, bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle. Twila grinned broadly. She always loved poking fun at her brother; it was baffling how he always got so worked up over liking Cadence. Twila was sure no one could _not _like the young woman._

_"I promise," Cadence said, still smiling. Lew's mouth gaped as he tried to reply, but Cadence shoved at his shoulders in the direction of the door, pushing him out. "Let's go! The sooner we get there, the sooner we can celebrate your passing with endless ice cream! Lew's treat, right Twila?"_

_"Yeah!" the girl cried, running around the pair and out the door, her past fears vanished under the allure of frozen deliciousness._

_"Oh...uh, yeah?" Lew said weakly, turning to Cadence. He smirked at her. "Thank you, Cadence. I don't know how you do that so well."_

_She patted him on the back. "It's simple. _I'm_ a girl, _you're_ a boy. But also a good big brother, lunkhead."_

_"Thanks," he replied. "I think."_

_"Cadence! Big Brotheeeeeeer! Come on, we'll be late!" cried Twila's voice, distant._

_"Let's go, lunkhead," Cadence said, taking Lew by the hand with a smile. Hand in hand, the two hurried out of Twila's room, their own excitement building to see the promising young girl succeed on her big day._

_Twila sat almost dead center in the testing room, surrounded by about two dozen others. Most of them were clearly noble children, the cut of their clothes fine and their noses stuck in various texts for last minute studying. That made Twila feel better-the nobility had access to the best prep schools in the country, so if they were making the very rookie mistake of studying more just before a test, surely she was more than ready._

_But she'd been early, so for the last twenty minutes she'd sat amongst the background noise of faint whispers and miniscule movements, debating on what exactly would be in the exam. After the excitement of ice cream had faded, her nerves had returned, worse than before._

Lew doesn't know, _she thought. _He's not stupid but he's a doer, not a thinker. _Then a terrible thought struck her: _What if he lied to make me feel better? What if it's even _worse _than I thought? Maybe they don't just fail you, but they _torture _you for wasting their time!

_Just as she decided the best course would be to not take the test at all, the door opened, revealing a stern looking group of adults. _The proctors,_ thought Twila with a gulp._

_They entered in silence, two men and a woman, all carrying a large stack of exams._

_The woman sat down at the desk at the head of the room, while the men began passing out what appeared to be answer sheets._

_Twila nearly yelped when the silence was suddenly broken as the woman said, "Welcome, student candidates. In a moment, you will receive your exam. Every exam is unique, but if you attempt to communicate at any time during the-"_

_Tuning her out, Twila continually told herself, _You're a Shields, you're a Shields, you're a Shields...

_"-Shields? Is Twila Shields in attendance?"_

_Realizing the proctors were doing a roll call, she gave a small yelp and raised her hand lightning fast. "Here, I'm here! Twila Shields, right here!"_

_"Yes, I can see that. Thank you," one of the men replied, making a tick on a clipboard._

_Twila lowered her hand and blushed. To her left she heard a few chuckles. She turned and saw another girl-probably her age, or a little older-laughing behind a gloved hand. Dark violet eyes catching Twila's, she moved a pale blue bang from in front of her face, and whispered, "What a _loser_, this test is in the bag for sure." Another pair of kids near her laughed._

_Sinking into her chair, Twila focused on her desk. She wished she could just disappear or, better yet,magically move herself somewhere else. Anywhere but where she was right now._

_A small _clap _caused her to sit up straight as an exam was tossed onto the desk._

_"You have one hour, begin," called the woman proctor. Immediately, the sound of ruffling paper and scratching pencils filled the room._

_Twila sat motionless, too afraid to flip open the test. She knew what she'd find: a list of questions too difficult for her, a test she wasn't ready-or even worthy-to take. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blue-haired girl from earlier working diligently, her expression haughty. She wasn't having any issues, it seemed._

"Twily, why haven't you started yet?" _her brother's voice asked in her head._

I'm too afraid, Big Brother,_ she replied. _I know you said I won't fail but... What _if _I do?

_Laughter. It was Cadence's. _"The best and brightest little girl ever, fail? I wouldn't wager Lew's money on ice cream if it wasn't a sure bet, Twila."

"And even if you do, you'll still be my favorite little sis, Twila. Mom, Dad, Cadence, and me? We'll all still love you, no matter what."

Y-you will?

"Always," _said Lew's voice._

"Always," _said Cadence's voice._

_The blue-haired girl turned to Twila, smirking. She blew a small raspberry, then went back to her test._

_Scrunching up her face in anger, Twila picked up her pencil and opened the exam booklet. She signed her name with a flourish-she'd practiced for weeks-and read the first question._

Please name the three founders of the modern day Torani monarchy. Explain the unique cultural influences they brought with them and the lasting eff-is this _it_? _she thought, astounded. _That's _easy_!

_Twila was baffled-everything she had ever heard had called this one of the most rigorous and difficult entrance exams in the nation. But it was all so _basic_! Sure, the questions wanted in depth and well thought out answers, but that was just details, wasn't it? As she quickened her pace, Twila was still surprised. Though the questions got more difficult further in, it was still easy for her._

_For a moment, she paused, worry gripping her again. What if her finding it too easy was a _problem_? Again, she carefully looked over to the blue-haired girl. Her pencil was down, her forehead scrunched and sweating. Twila watched her eyes go back and forth over the same question again and again._

_Twila felt a bit smug, though she knew it was wrong to do so. Deciding she couldn't worry over every little thing _all _the time, she continued with the test._

_She'd reached the final page, which consisted of just one large essay question, and was finishing up when she heard a man's voice call out, "Time. Pencil's down and tests closed, please."_

_Carefully marking her last period, Twila did so and sat with her hands together. She glanced around-most of the others looked as nervous as she had been when she entered. A few looked relieved, like Twila did. The blue-haired girl-Twila wished she knew her name so she could stop thinking of her like that-seemed somewhere in between._

_Twila watched as all the tests were taken up by one of the men. The woman proctor spoke, "Please return to the auditorium and await your assessment. Anyone who leaves will automatically be disqualified. You're dismissed."_

_With little alternative, Twila got up with the others and herded out of the classroom. She looked for that one girl to ask her name, but being shorter than most, she lost sight of her. When she got back to the auditoreum, where Lew and Cadence were waiting for her, she still couldn't find the girl anywhere._

_She told Lew she had to wait, so the three all sat down and did so._

_Lew frowned. Twila had sat in silence for nearly two hours. She didn't look particularly upset-at least not in any way he'd seen from her before-but he was still a little worried. After an hour, the students had begun being called, receiving their assessments. And finding out if they were accepted or denied. Lew didn't know how many spots the Royal Academy had open each year, but only two of the would-be students had left happy so far._

_He felt a squeeze on his hand. Smiling at Cadence, he mouthed, "Thank you." and gave her hand a light squeeze back. She always paid such good attention to those around her, giving them just what she thought they needed to feel better. She'd been as quiet about Twila as he had, so she didn't seem worried. It still baffled him how girls could do that, no matter the age._

_Despite her reassurances, his patience had nearly run dry. But just as he opened his mouth, the door opened, revealing the woman proctor. "Twila Shields?"_

_Looking to her brother and Cadence, who both shrugged, she replied, "R-right here, ma'am."_

_"Sorry to keep you waiting. This is a very unusual situation."_

_"And exactly what sort of situation are we talking about here?" asked Lew._

_The proctor shook her head. "I'm afraid that's only for Miss Shields to know at the moment. Please, Miss Grania, do sit down," the woman told Cadence, who had risen to berate the frustrating proctor. "In fifteen minutes, you'll have your answers. But for now, Miss Shields?"_

_"Yes, ma'am?" Twila asked, trepidation in her voice._

_"Come with me, please."_

_"A-alright," she said simply. Getting up, she raised a hand to stop her brother from doing the same. "Be right back, OK, Big Brother?"_

_"Yeah, Twily. I'll be waiting right here for you."_

_Cadence gave her a smile which Twila returned before leaving with the proctor._

_The proctor led Twila down a dizzying number of corridors. She was certain, if the woman had abandoned her, Twila would be lost forever. She thought about asking where they were going or how much longer it would take to get there, but the serious face the woman wore kept the young girl quiet. The only sound was the echo of their steps on the pristine white tile and Twila's own rapid heartbeat._

_Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the proctor stopped and gestured to a door. "Right through there, then."_

_Tilting her head, Twila ventured to ask, "Um, what's in there?"_

_"The results of your exam," the woman said, giving a small smile. She looked like she had told some sort of joke. It made Twila even more nervous. Giving Twila a look, the proctor snapped, "Well, go on then! We don't have all night."_

_"Yes, ma'am," Twila replied, approaching the door. It didn't _look_ like a torture room door. But then, Twila didn't know if those had a special look or not. Reaching out to take the doorknob, she gulped. If she was in any real trouble or danger, her brother would save her. That's what big brothers did, after all._

_With a bit more confidence and visions of her brother taking on royal guards to save her filling her imagination, she twisted the knob and opened the door._

_The room beyond was a simple meeting room, possibly an empty classroom. It _was _empty, save for a small table and two chairs. The far wall was one large window-Twila had never seen anything so simple yet elegant. Against the left wall hung two chalkboards, complete with rollers suggesting they covered two more. The whole room smelled faintly of chalk and perspiration._

_At the table sat a woman Twila knew very, very well. In fact, she was pretty sure everyone in the whole world knew this woman. She was tall, probably about six feet or so, and beautiful beyond anything Twila had ever imagined. Her skin was pale, but not unhealthy, and it set off her light- and multi-hued hair-which stretched nearly to the floor-very well, giving it the impression that it seemed to move, despite the lack of a breeze. She wore a warm smile that seemed to light up the room more than the lights above, and her eyes matched it, their light purple sheen showing the well-known intelligence and kindness she was admired for possessing._

_Her mouth went dry as she froze. Twila couldn't believe what her eyes were registering to her mind, so she simply stood in the doorway and stared._

_The smile turned her way, and, her voice just as beautiful as would be expected, the woman said, "Hello, Twila. My name is Celestia Eliane Orlaith-I'm going to be your caretaker and personal instructor, beginning tomorrow."_


	4. An Invitation for Infiltration

Even after moving to the main meeting room, Jack had no response, leaving Twila alone to her thoughts. The Hub went silent again, though only for a moment as the others began arriving.

Pinkie bounced down the stairs, which creaked in protest, as she hummed a happy little tune to herself. She entered the Hub and found Twila sitting there, looking like she was almost meditating. The pink haired woman's tune died in her mouth, and she gave Jack a curious look.

The farmer shook her head, silently telling Diane to drop it. The excitable woman kept her lips shut and walked over to the table, hoping her steps would be enough to announce her presence to Twila. There was a bit of a silence, Pinkie unsure of what to say.

Thankfully, the sounds of footsteps distracted her. "Ooo! I think everyone's coming now!"

Dash came stepping in, glancing over the group and blatantly ignoring Jack's glare that told her to keep quiet. "I, uh, miss something here?" she questioned, moving towards the group. She leaned casually against the table.

"Nope! At least I don't think so," Pinkie answered, giving Dash a light shrug. She blinked, then looked at Jack apologetically.

The silence was showing signs it would grow awkward when it was broken by a loud, "I'm coming, Twila-a-a-ahhhh!" There was a series of bangs and bumps, ending with Spike falling out of the entranceway to land in a heap on the ground. "I'm...I'm here!" he panted weakly.

"Spike!" cried Twila, causing Jack to nearly flip her chair back in surprise. It was like night and day-one minute, Twila had still been sitting there quietly, the next she was alert, running over to the fallen Spike. "Spike, are you alright? Oh, you didn't hurt yourself did you?"

"I'm not late, am I?" he asked as he pushed himself to his feet. "I went and got the girls, but got uh...distracted and forgot to come back." Dash held in her cackle for a good three seconds, then burst into laughter.

"I woulda been distracted too, _squirt!_" she said in between breaths, clutching her sides. "S-she _is_ a looker!"

"Well duh! Everyone's a looker, Dashie. I'm looking at you right now!" Pinkie cheerfully said, staring at Isabelle with wide eyes.

Twila blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "What are they talking about, Spike?"

"N-nothing, nothing," Dash dismissed with a wave of her hand, still bearing a toothy, ear-to-ear grin.

Spike was saved from further embarrassment by the timely intervention of Chylene. "Oh, am I late?" she asked softly, as she went down the stairs.

"No, we're still waiting on Rarity," Twila replied. "Well, Spike, be more careful next time. If you're OK, let's all have a seat. When Rarity gets here, we'll go over the plan."

Twila returned to her seat at the head of the table, Spike sitting next to her after grabbing a laptop. Pinkie pulled out a chair, skidding it across the floor. Chylene was quieter, simply picking up hers.

"How was breakfast?" Twila asked, seemingly back to normal.

"Super duper yummy for my tummy!" Pinkie shouted, putting an arm around Chylene's shoulders. "All thanks to Chy!"

The timid woman couldn't help but blush lightly at the recognition. "Oh, it was nothing really. And Alice helped too."

"Are you hungry, Twila? Do you want me to get some for you?" asked Spike.

She shook her head. "No thanks, Spike. I'm not hungry." Spike frowned-to his knowledge, Twila hadn't been eating much-but let it go for the time being, returning to the wealth of information on his laptop.

"OK, everyone, I've arrived. Sorry I'm late, but breakfast smelled too heavenly to skip," Rarity said, coming down the stairs. She took a seat beside Spike, giving him a wink as she did so. He blushed, but tried to remain cool.

"Alright," Twila began, "now that we're all here, let's get down to business. You all know the ball and auction is two days from now, so today we're putting the plan into its final form. After this, we'll be locked in, so voice any questions or concerns you have when they arise. Clear enough?"

Chylene nervously raised a hand. "W-we won't need to...y-you know..." she trailed off, hoping Twila would get the message.

Understanding, Twila shook her head. "For most of us, no. This Heist, as Spike has gotten me to start calling them, should be completely low-key. All we have to do is enjoy the party, like the Gala three years ago."

"Not quite like that, I hope," Rarity interjected. "If you'll recall, that night was a disaster in several ways for all of us. Not that it didn't end up being a wonderful evening."

There was a general chorus of agreement, with a few smiles for old memories.

"True enough," said Twila. "Hopefully our plans will go a lot smoother this time. "

"With you an' Spike runnin' the show? You bet yer ass it'll go smoother," Jack said, leaning her chair back.

"Well we know what kinda party it is now-a pretty boring one-so we'll be really really prepared for this!" Pinkie slammed a hand on the table. "Yeah!"

Twila smiled, but shook her head. "I'm afraid it might not be as boring as you think, Pinkie. This isn't quite like the Gala. Tonight isn't just a fancy ball where the cream can rub elbows-it's a show. Through Blueblood, the Tyrant is basically showing off her complete power." She paused, then shook her head. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning. Spike?"

"Got it," the young man replied, picking up a small remote and pushing a button. The room darkened as a projector lit up the far wall, displaying an image of a massive building, all columns and marble and sharp edges. At the bottom it read, 'Blueblood Camelot Manor'.

Twila cleared her throat and began, "The Blueblood family, once the most prestigious and wealthiest noble family in Torani, has been reduced to just this building. It's functioned as less of a home, really, then a museum-one containing priceless historical artifacts and countless national treasures. Not many people are aware of it, but the Blueblood family rose to such prominence because they more or less held these items hostage against the Crown. In return for certain...leeways in their business dealings, the family agreed to keep them safe and secure for all the nation to see."

She nodded to Spike who clicked another button, changing the picture to one of a young man. He looked to be in his early thirties, showing youthful charm but sophisticated elegance. His smile was brilliantly white, but rang somehow false.

"His eyes..." whispered Chylene. At a closer glance, the group could see what she meant-despite his wide smile, handsome looks, and confident bearing, his eyes looked haggard and wary.

"Yes," said Twila. "This is Alaurd von Blueblood, current patriarch of the family, due to an untimely 'accident' that claimed both his parents' lives about seven years ago. Unfortunately for him, his business sense is completely lacking. Every investment he's made has failed, nearly bankrupting him and putting his family name in disgrace."

"A perfect candidate for the Tyrant's lapdog, then?" asked Rarity.

Twila nodded. "That's right. All evidence points to him backing her recent policies, one hundred percent. He's a pompous, cowardly lickspittle. And he's our most important asset tonight, because..." She nodded at Spike again.

"Because all my channels say the same thing," he said, pushing the button again to change the newspaper photo of Blueblood to a clearly more amateur take of him exiting a limousine, carrying a briefcase that seemed to be handcuffed to him. "Blueblood has been given the List."

Pinkie let out a huge gasp. "Oh my _God_! He's got our shopping list!"

"Nah, Pinkie," Jack quickly corrected, glancing at the energetic woman. "Don't ya remember? The list of... people with her best interest at heart-if ya follow me."

"Oooo! I getcha, Jackie!" Pinkie replied, nodding with a bright smile at the farmer. She then looked back at the projector, resting her head on her hands.

"That's right," Twila said with a firm nod. "This List is supposed to contain every ally the Tyrant has made or bought or strong armed-in Torani, Kvaan, the islands. Maybe even in the South." She gave everyone a serious look. "I don't have to explain just how vital that would be for our cause."

"But...but what if they know we have it?" Chylene questioned, shrinking in her chair at the mere thought.

"It won't matter. The damage will have been done, especially if we move quickly. That's where part two comes into play." Spike clicked the remote again.

A short video clip of uncountable riches played and repeated. Gems, precious metals, and other items of obvious value were lined up in various displays. Another click and this time different items-no less valuable seeming-were being transported into a massive, heavily secure vault.

"This is the underground vault, below the manor. For about the past decade or so, this is where Blueblood has kept _everything. _After the death of his father, he closed the museum aboveground to secure his hold on the treasure. Now, he didn't have the courage to actually sell anything or use it to make up for his poor business deals, but the Tyrant is about to change all that," explained Twila as the images continued to change, showing a seemingly endless room of riches.

The picture changed to an invitation, the wording in thick gold leaf. "At her instruction, Blueblood is hosting the ball of the year paired with an auction. She's basically given him permission to sell off irreplaceable items of history and culture to the highest bidder. The invitations are incredibly exclusive, being sent to only the wealthiest noble families in the nation, as well as a few powers overseas.

"While Jack didn't receive one, my family is still reputable enough amongst the nobles that to not be invited would be a serious oversight. Furthermore, I can bring as many as I wish along with me."

Pinkie raised her hand, flailing it in the air wildly. "Ooo! Ooo! Pick me, Twila! Pick me!"

With a small laugh, Twila said, "Don't worry, Pinkie. You'll be coming. Along with Rarity and Chy, we four are going to the ball. Our goal is twofold: one, keep the ball going on as long as possible for team two. Two, find Blueblood and somehow get him to reveal to us the location of the List."

"And us?" Dash asked, crossing her legs.

"You and Jack have the more dangerous job, but it should still be relatively simple. You'll be breaking into the vault. Spike managed to acquire the schematics for the place and, besides the main entrance in the manor itself, there is a smaller entrance a block away that security uses. It'll be your job to get in, remaining undetected if you're able, and steal as much as you possibly can." She pulled out a sheet of paper from a folder on the table. "And take this-it's a list of a few especially important artifacts we _need_ to get out of there. A few are to secure alliances and the others?" Her face took on a shade of red, her voice tinged with anger. "They're too important to be left in the enemy's hands."

The farmer tilted her hat back and opened her mouth. She seemed to debate on her words, then finally spoke up. "What about a plan B? What if this goes ta shit, Twila? If me an' Dash get in a tight spot, or worse, the girls get in a pinch? Wh-"

"Relax, man." Dash glanced over at the farmer. "It'll be fine."

"But what if it's _not_?" Jack questioned, exasperation in her voice. She took off her hat and slowly felt it over with her fingers. "We can't jus' wing this an' go 'round half-cocked-we all saw how it turned out last time."

"We play the distraction card," Spike said. "It's got a few levels. Turns out Blueblood's servants have no love or loyalty for him. Like, at all. It was easy enough to bribe one to rig up a small explosive on the building's emergency power supply. The main power supply I can cut off myself, no problem. We only get once, but if you absolutely need it, just say, 'When is the next solar eclipse?' The lights will be out, for how long I don't know."

"Which helps us at the party, Spike, but what about Jack and Dash?" asked Rarity.

The young man turned to Twila, who was quiet for a moment. "I couldn't think of a decent backup plan for you two. ...I'm sorry. The way in and out is too straightforward. If things go bad, I can only tell you to retreat."

"Who needs to run? You're looking at brains and brawn right here," Dash proclaimed, putting her hands to her hips and grinning.

"Yer neither," Jack said, smirking despite herself. Before Isabelle could register a complaint, she looked hard at Spike. "Don't worry 'bout us. Jus' keep those girls safe an' in check, ya hear?"

Spike started to reply, but was overtaken by Twila. Her words coming out hurriedly, Twila's calm demeanor broke as she tried to explain, "It'll be fine, the vault is pretty simple! It relies entirely on its walls and gates. And Blueblood is too cheap to pay for more than a handful of security guards."

"Um, Twila?" Chy asked, raising a hand. "I have a question."

"What is it?" asked Twila.

Chylene lowered her arm. "Will we be checked at the door, before entering?"

She nodded. "Almost certainly. Blueblood's a bit paranoid about his own security. So we go in completely unarmed."

"Okay, thank you," Chylene said softly, with a smile to match.

Rarity leaned over, patting Chylene's shoulder. "It's OK, dear. We all know how you feel. But this is a different battleground. Our weapons are some of the oldest womenkind have always possessed!" She batted her eyelashes at Spike, causing him to blush. "Blueblood won't know what hit him."

The shy woman's cheeks began to flush. "Oh u-um, I guess you're r-right..."

Pinkie scratched her head. "I don't get it. Is there some secret women's martial art that I've been missing?"

Ignoring Pinkie, Twila looked to everyone and asked, "I think that about covers the basics. Are there any questions?"

"Yeah! What was Rarity talking about?" Pinkie cried, pointing at the woman in question.

"Any _other _questions?"

"Hey! That was a legitimate question!" Pinkie huffed, folding her arms.

"Well, if that's everything, then you're all dismissed." Standing, Twila picked up the folders in front of her. "Spike and I will handle the rest of the preparations, though, Jack, Dash, you should double check the armory for yourselves. Let's all try and have a nice relaxing day tomorrow-we leave first thing in the morning, two days from now."


	5. Bound by Blood

Spike was alone in the Hub when midnight rolled around. It hardly bothered the young man to stay up late, though he'd need to catch up in a day or so. He rubbed at his eyes; lack of sleep wasn't bothering him, but the constant glare of computer screens was taking its toll on his eyes.

"Really need to get out more," he said, remembering his last look at a scale had said he'd been gaining weight lately. He'd asked Twila about it, but she'd been too nice and said he didn't look much different.

She'd also told him to get to sleep early tonight. Yet here he was, alone, watching and listening to a half dozen computer screens. Some showed footage-security cameras and news programs forefront-and some simply displayed audiograms tuned into police and military radio. One displayed his only channel to his overseas contacts, including the mercenaries they wanted to hire for use against the Tyrant. The flat line showed silence. Which wasn't a surprise.

The sound of a door closing made him jump, nearly causing him to fall out of his chair. Slamming his hand on a remote on the desk, the room's lights turned on, illuminating the intruder.

"Hey, Spike," said Twila. She lifted a steaming, purple mug-his favorite-and asked, "Tea?"

"Oh! Twila, it's you." He sighed. "Yeah, tea sounds good. Thanks!"

She rolled a chair next to his, handing him the mug as she took a small sip of her own. Spike licked his lips and gulped down half the mug with a sound of satisfaction.

"Ah! Blueberry green, that's good stuff!"

Twila giggled. "I still don't know how you can do that, Spike. It's like hot things don't even bother you."

The young man shrugged, taking a more reserved sip of his tea. He went back to staring at the monitors, not saying a word.

"So."

He looked at her.

"You're still awake?"

He nodded. "I'm just too used to this now, I guess."

She put a hand to his arm. "Well next time, tell me, Spike. You've pulled enough all-nighters for my sake over the years. The least I can do is keep you company, even if I can't actually help."

Another nod, followed by a sip of tea. The two friends sat together in silence for a long while.

"Hey, Spike?"

Tilting his head, Spike replied, "Mmhmm?"

"That one at the bottom left-isn't that from your contacts in the islands?"

His eyes widening, Spike spat out the sip of tea he had been taking, letting the mug drop. Twila just barely managed to catch it before it hit the concrete floor "That's a lot of activity! Where'd it all come from?" He began typing commands on the screen, then he flipped a pair of switches. A low buzz filled the room. "The signal from the Ghost Rim is so picky-I always have to readjust to find it again." He pulled an expensive headset to one of his ears, using his other hand to turn a dial carefully.

The buzzing intensified, becoming higher pitched before breaking into nearly understandable babble. Flipping a few more switches, Spike went to a smaller knob, turning it even more slowly. The mass of voices slowed down, the background static clearing.

"What on earth is going on down there, Spike?" asked Twila, her curiosity peaked.

"I don't know. I've almost got this signal cleared up. Just a little...ah! Got it!"

Though it was mostly clear, Twila still had to listen very carefully to understand anything. A dozen or more voices were yelling and screaming over top of one another.

"What is all that, Spike?"

The young man continued to carefully adjust dials, flip switches, and constantly monitor the audiogram registering the broadcasts. "It's a pirate channel. They've all got their own, of course, but sometimes they need to talk to each other. I'd say...about eight or nine ships are in on this. Sounds like they're taking a beating from someone. Here, I'll isolate one."

After a few more adjustments, Spike moved the headset's jack to another console, then handed them to Twila. "Here you go. Listen to that."

Placing the bulky set over her own ears, Twila listened. It was a woman's voice, to her surprise.

"-don't give a searat's ass who they be, just get in there an' kill 'em all! What?! Royal guard? With the black crest? Oi, Grinket, I think ye've gone soft in the skull!"

"And this one," said Spike with another button push.

A male's voice, rough but scared sounding, said, "I'm telin' ye! It's _'er_! The bloody Nightmare Knight 'erself, I swears it! Ye heard the rumors, same as me-she bein' exiled with 'er personal guard and naught much else but a leaky old warship."

Twila took off the headset, her eyes just as wide as Spike's. She breathed, "It's Luna-it's Princess Luna, Spike! She's in the Ghost Rim! She's still alive."

"Wait, Twila, put the headset back on! You'll want to hear this."

She did and then, to her amazement, Luna's voice came over the radio. Even now, it sent shivers down Twila's spine-it was so sure, so firm, with an intensity that struck harder and louder than if she had simply yelled. And so cold. It didn't so much communicate the princess' will as make a promise of it. What she said would come to pass, no matter what the world had to say about it.

"Thieves, murderers, and scoundrels, hear me! I am Luna Aldis Orlaith, exiled but still sovereign Princess of Torani. For your crimes and treason I prescribe only two choices: lay down your arms and be bound by true justice, or your lives, forfeited to the Creator above. This night is mine, as all are. I encourage your wisdom, though you have shown little enough in your existence so far. I will have your answers. What say you?!"

Though there was a pause, when the replies came they made Twila blanch. She had thought Dash had a rough tongue on her, but obviously the athlete had a lot to learn.

"So be it," the princess said, her voice tinged with obvious regret-and just a hint of eagerness. "Captain Shields, give the order."

"Aye, milady," said a strong, male voice. Twila knew that voice, knew it as sure as she knew her own.

"B-big Brother?" she whispered.

"Isn't it great, Twila?" Spike cheered. "He's alive! Exiled to the Ghost Rim fighting pirates, but Lew's alive!" Jumping up from his chair, the youth began dancing around the room. "I told you, Twila! Nothing can stop your brother. No siree, nothing and no one can touch Lewellyn Shields, Captain of the Royal Guard!"

Spike was so ecstatic, and Twila so surprised, that neither of them managed to notice Alice listening in from the top of the stairs, crouched down, eyes wide at the revelation.

Spike danced on for a moment longer before noticing Twila hadn't moved a muscle. She sat there, her brother's voice being relayed to her through the headset. He was giving orders as he always did-quickly, confidently. Then there was a loud screech of feedback, followed by static. Throwing the headset down, Twila turned to Spike. "Fix it! Fix the signal, Spike! Hurry hurry hurry!"

"OK, OK! Hold on." Sitting down, he went through the process of finding the signal again as fast as he could. But try as he might, the only sound that could be heard was static. Thumping his monitor in frustration, Spike said, "It's no good. I can't get anything. It's the damn Rim acting up again."

Falling to her knees, Twila sniffed as the tears started falling. "So close but so damn far! It's not _fair_, Spike! Get him back... Get my brother back!"

"I'm sorry, Twila but... I can't," he said quietly, causing another wave of tears to flow from the distraught woman.

"It was him, Spike! It was my brother, alive!"

He got up again, taking a knee beside her. Gently, he placed a hand on her back. Smiling, he said, as cheerfully as he could, "It was him, alright. Doing what he always does." He waited for her to look up at him, then he winked. "Being a hero? Saving the day? Protecting Que-uh, Princess and Country?"

Though still crying, Twila managed a small smile and nodded.

"Yeah!" Spike exclaimed. "And he's with Princess Luna. Those pirates are history. She's just letting him take care of it so as not to hurt his pride. You remember how upset he gets when he thinks he's not doing his job." At that Twila couldn't help but laugh. She remembered all too well some of the incidents in the past. Her brother was often too serious for his own good.

"Spike-this changes everything!" she finally managed to say. "We never knew what happened to Luna, all those months ago. She'd be invaluable in helping us remove the Tyrant! If we could find her, bring her back ..."

"I know what you mean," Spike said. "But it's not that easy. It'd probably take weeks to figure out exactly where she is. Not to mention getting the right sort of boat, equipment, and crew to sail to the Ghost Rim. And that costs money we just don't have!"

"I don't care, Spike!" Twila cried. "Lew's down there, and I'm bringing him home." She lightly pushed Spike away, getting to her feet and heading for the door. Alice flinched, preparing to flee.

"And the plan? The girls? You're just going to leave, right now, completely ignoring the fact that they're all depending on you?" Spike called after her, stopping her in her tracks.

Her shoulders hunched, and she grabbed her arms and pulled herself in tight. She clenched her jaw, begging the tears to stay back. "I-it's my brother, Spike! My brother! What do you want from m-me?"

"You know I miss him, too, Twi. We all do, and, yeah, you most of all. But think about what he'd tell you right now. Really _think_ like Lew."

She tried to think, but her brain felt like mush. No, it felt like stone. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of anything but her brother's voice. Had he sounded tired? Exhausted. Had he sounded scared? Just a bit, he was so good at not letting it show.

But he'd also sounded completely sure of himself. He'd accepted his liege's orders without question or regret. Lew always knew his duty, seeing it through to the end no matter what it took. But he was so strong...

_And I'm so weak!_ Twila cried to herself. _If you were here, Lew, you'd know what to do!_

But that was the point, wasn't it? Lew _did _know what to do-he was doing it right now. Fighting for his Princess, fulfilling his duty for her, for himself, and for his country.

Could she ever face him if she didn't do the same?

"I..." she began. Spike looked at her with hopeful eyes. She turned, her face a mess but her smile fierce, "I'm going to save my brother, Spike. I'm going to bring him back." Spike's face fell. "But." His eyebrows raised. "But first we're going to rob Blueblood and his puppetmaster blind. We've got a job to do, Number One Assistant. But for now, let's get some sleep. We'll tell the others in the morning."

Pumping a fist in triumph, Spike yelled, "Yeah!" Dashing forward to catch up, the two exited the Hub, excitedly talking about the stories they'd have for Lew when next they saw him.

Shortly afterwards, Alice quickly crept out of the Hub, heading back to bed. This eavesdrop session was very...interesting for her.

"Hey, guys-we've got some incredible news!" Spike exclaimed, flipping a pancake. It was nearly noon, but they'd all slept the morning in. Everyone was in evidence for brunch-though Macintosh and Alice hadn't shown up quite yet-and they all turned to Twila excitedly. She simply smiled and nodded.

"You finally got some chocolate sauce for the pancakes?!" Pinkie asked, bouncing up and down in her chair excitedly.

"Ew, gross. And no," Spike said, grimacing. His face lit up again when he said, "Lew's alive!"

Diane's jaw almost hit the table. "That isn't incredible news! That's...super duper awesome amazing fantastic news!"

The farmer furrowed her brow, looking hard at Spike. "Honest-ta-God?" She grinned, her mouth threatening to take over her entire jaw. "That's great, sugar!"

"I'll say!" Rarity said. "I know if I had lost my little Sweetie... Well, it must be a huge relief for you, Twila."

Chylene put a hand on her chest, sighing in relief. "Oh that's wonderful, I'm so glad he's safe." She looked at Twila, giving her a very sweet smile. "You must be so happy!"

She returned the smile, though her eyes showed it was a little forced. "Mostly. I'll admit, it's a little hard to hear at this point. I had a lot of thinking to do last night on tomorrow's mission."

"What do you mean?" Chylene questioned softly.

"Spike intercepted some radio broadcasts." Twila paused. "From the Ghost Rim."

"The Ghost Rim? Shiiiit," Dash trailed off, shaking her head. "Can't say I envy the bastard."

"Yeah, it's one of the roughest places on the planet, that's for sure," said Spike, this time cracking a few eggs into a different skillet. "But still, it's not just him. He's apparently leading the personal guard of Princess Luna-seems they were _all_ exiled down there."

Twila continued. "It's the most logical place. Luna is the Tyrant's number one threat. Sending her anywhere else gives her allies, soldiers, supplies. The Ghost Rim might well kill her-and my brother, too." She shook her head. "I want to call tomorrow off, at least for me, and stage a rescue right away."

The group shared a glance with one another. Seeing this, Twila waved her hands rapidly. "But I'm not! I know Lew can handle himself, Luna even more so. And this is a once in a lifetime opportunity-it's our duty to stay the course and complete our mission. Then we can work on getting the Princess and her guard back."

"Are you sure, Twila?" Rarity asked, her tone gentle. "We'd understand if you-"

The sound of heavy footsteps briskly running down the flight of stairs nearby interrupted any further conversation. Mac, Jack's large beast of a brother, came stumbling into the kitchen, his eyes looking with a quiet desperation towards the women seated at the table.

"I can't find Alice," he bluntly said.

Jack snorted, taking a bite out of her pancake. "Well, she _is_ that age, Mac."

"Yeah," Dash agreed. "Hell, when I was her age, I'd be out all night climbing roofs and shit. Girl's probably just out with some friends." Her smirk widened. "Or maybe with a boy."

"Or a girl," Pinkie added. Dash gave a casual shrug, suggesting it was a possibility.

Macintosh blanched. He didn't want to think of the family's baby out doing things like that. "Ya really think...?"

Chylene coughed quietly. "I'm sure she's just with Stephanie and Sarah, in their clubhouse."

The big man shook his head. "Nope, checked there. Called their homes, too."

"What about Sweet Tooth Lane? Maybe she went to get a milkshake?" Jack offered.

"I can go check there! I have to look after the twins anyways!" Pinkie announced, nodding her head.

"Or hell, the library even." The farmer glanced over at Twila. "You got an assistant workin' it today, right? Maybe she's there gettin' a book on somethin'-she's a bigger reader than the rest of the family."

"I'll go give him a call, be right back," Twila said, leaving to the other room.

The giant man was fidgeting with his hands, obviously nervous. Though he was a tough son of a gun, anything involving the youngest member of the family made him nothing but frayed nerves. It was a nightmare when she wanted to learn how to ride a bike.

"Go ta the livin' room. Sit," Jack instructed, rising from the table and putting a hand at his arm.

"But-"

"Jus' do it," the blonde countered, giving his back a motivating slap. He glanced at her and nodded, stumbling into the living room. Jack shook her head, smiling slightly. "Big lummox is such a worrywart."

"Coming from you I find that cute," Isabelle stated, crossing her hands behind her head, leaning the chair she sat in on its two back legs and looking with one eye towards the farmer.

It wasn't but a moment later that they heard him cry out.

"_Jack!_" Macintosh bellowed from the living room, the action shocking Dash enough that she jerked back, toppling the chair over and landing on the floor with a thud. "_Get yer fuckin' ass_ in _here_!" he roared. Isabelle and Jack shared another glance. The giant hardly ever swore, or even raised his voice unless things were really wrong.

The two women were first on their feet, but after their own shared looks, the rest soon followed, Spike moving his omelette off the heat. They found Twila already on the couch, Mac standing near the coffee table, an uncrumpled piece of paper in his hand. He was doing his best to straighten it out.

"What ya got there?" Jack asked, giving a small nod of her head at the paper the man held. Mac didn't turn to face her. He took a heavy breath and held it out to the blonde.

Jack looked down and read the note.

_Guys;_

_I'm sorry. I can't just sit around anymore. I've gotta help. I promise I'll be back with Luna before you know it._

_Love you all._

_-Alice_

"...Son of a bitch," Jack quietly snarled.

"What?" Dash asked.

"Alice. Goin' by this note, she's headin'...headin' fer Luna." Jack swallowed. "_Shit_."

Pinkie gasped quietly, staying silent. Until she saw the notepad on the coffee table. "Ooo! My drawings!" She picked up the notepad, looking at the front page. "Haha, I look funny as a pony!" She giggled delightfully, enamoured by her 'art'.

The giant of a man crossed his arms, wordlessly glaring daggers down at the pink-haired woman. He scowled-another gesture Jack wasn't used to seeing on the normally easy going man. Combined with his height, it radiated displeasure-and promised more.

Rarity moved next to Pinkie, using her eyes to explain how inappropriate Pinkie was being. The energetic woman looked between the two and her face quickly became crestfallen. "I was just-I was-no...I'm sorry." She dropped the notepad, backing off to Chylene. "But she might still be in town and she's really really tough so she's probably fine!" Pinkie finished and went silent, fidgeting uncomfortably with her hands. Chylene put an arm around her in order to give her some comfort.

Macintosh sighed and looked at the women. "I'll head ta town. Search around."

"Oh, please hurry, Mac," Chylene said, looking at the big man with pleading eyes.

Twila stood and gestured to the entire group. "We'll all go. Mansfield isn't huge, but it's bigger than one person. With all of us, we'll cover more of the town in one sweep."

"Then let's get crackin'," Dash announced, gesturing back out to the kitchen and subsequently, the front door. "Time's ticking."

"Spike, I want you to stay here. Someone has to be here and man the phones," Twila ordered.

"Right!" he replied. "Good luck, girls!"

Rarity gave him a pat on the head. "Thank you, darling. I bet we'll be back before dinner."


	6. Pampering, Pinkies, Potental

Chylene looked frantically about the town, looking past other people just going about their day. In such a rural place like this, a red-haired girl would've been easy to spot. She should've been, anyway.

"Alice!" the woman called out, although it wasn't very loud. Unsurprisingly, she got no response. She bit her lip and folded her arms. "Oh no...please be safe, please be safe."

A light tap on her shoulder made her jump, and she nearly screamed.

"Dear, Chylene! It's me!" came a familiar voice.

The timid woman spun round, giving Rarity a weak smile. "Oh, hello, Rarity. Please tell me you found Alice?"

The purple-haired beauty shook her head. "I'm afraid not, though I've only been to so many places. But I'm glad I found you-do you remember what today is?"

Chylene furrowed her brows. "Um...sorry, with all that's happened today I've completely forgot."

Rarity gave a large smile and clapped her hands together. "Today's our monthly spa appointment! And it's the third month, so it's the Works!"

"Oh, um..." Chylene instinctively avoided the beauty's gaze. "I don't think we should do that when Alice is still missing..."

She frowned. "But you know how hard it is to get a Works appointment since they became popular. If we miss it, we won't get another chance for three months, Chylene! You've searched and can't find her, right? And I've searched and can't find her, right? And _all _the others are looking. Besides, we _do _need to check the spa. Just in case someone saw her there. Am I right?" Rarity put on her mild pout-a hopeful smile with just a small downturn to the eyes and lips.

The pink-haired woman looked at her and just knew that she wouldn't let this drop. She rubbed an arm uncomfortably. "I guess you have a point..."

Grabbing her arm, Rarity exclaimed, "Good! So let's go then, and maybe we won't be late. We can keep looking for her afterwards, regardless. We both need this. You'll see."

"Okay...let's go." She squeaked when the fashionista started dragging her to the Spa.

Twenty minutes later found the pair in the waiting room of Spa Solace, the nearly twin owners prattling on about the latest Mansfield gossip. Rarity was listening intently, responding vaguely, mostly with laughter. Another ten minutes saw the two in a private room, just beginning their Works treatment. Rarity seemed to be quite relaxed, enjoying herself even.

Chylene on the other hand, was trying to. In the lobby, she had stood by herself, arms folded over her breasts. With just Rarity, these trips were very fun but with others around, her insecurities about her body started to surface. When the treatment started, she didn't feel much better.

"Chylene?"

She blinked, snapping back to reality. "Oh, yes?"

"I asked if you were enjoying yourself, darling," Rarity said, concern lacing her words.

Chylene gave her a sweet smile. "You know I always enjoy our outings," she half-lied.

Rarity nodded slowly, but frowned. "It's because we're not looking for Alice, isn't it?"

"Well, yes." She looked down apologetically. "Sorry..."

"It's not that I don't care, you understand," replied Rarity, carefully.

Chylene widened her eyes and was quick to respond. "Oh no no! I didn't think that, really, I didn't!"

Nodding, Rarity continued, "I have Stephanie. I know exactly what it would feel like if she disappeared."

"Oh, yes." The timid woman opened her mouth to say something more, but there really wasn't much else she could say. "Mhm..."

Rarity was mostly speaking to herself at this point as she went on, "I trust Mac, or Dash, or even Jack herself to get to the bottom of this." Her tone stiffened just a bit. "I'm not very good with kids, you know. I try but..." She gave a weak laugh. "Do you remember when Sweetie ran away to Jack? Saying she was going to have her as a big sister? _That's_ how good a sister I can be."

Chylene's own anxieties were washed over by her concern for Rarity's. "Siblings don't always get along. I mean, we weren't related but...Dash and I didn't always get along with the others in the home."

Nodding, Rarity sat in thought for a moment. One of the spa sisters was working her nails, but Rarity seemed completely oblivious. She finally said, "I'm a terrible friend, aren't I."

Chylene suddenly straightened her back in her seat, much to the other sister's annoyance. "No, you're not," she said in an almost scolding tone. "What would make you say something like that?"

"I don't think I rightly know, Chylene, dear. That's part of the problem." Rarity let out a long sigh. "I care about you all-don't doubt that for a moment-but sometimes I simply fail to see how I fit in. You're all such good people, in your own ways. Even Isabelle."

"Of course you fit in, Rarity. We're all so different from each other, but we all get along." A warm smile appeared on her face. "And I think that's wonderful."

Rarity gave her a halfhearted smile in return. _Chylene is too kind to really understand what I mean. Oh well,_she thought, trying to figure out a way to change the topic. After another stretch of silence, she said, "We'll continue to look for Alice when we're done. That's what friends do, right?"

"Yes-" Chylene squeaked when the spa sisters started to file her nails, so she opted for a casual nod instead.

Leaning back and closing her eyes, Rarity lightly said, "Relax, darling and enjoy it. We'll be too busy for niceties in the coming days, I fear." _Even though I don't always understand them, they still accept me-more than I deserve, but I'll gladly take it for now._ With that last thought, she could already feel her tension draining away as the masseuse began her work.

About an hour and a half later, the two primped and pampered ladies exited the building. The first signs of early evening were evident in the sky. Rarity squinted, trying to judge the hour before remembering the designer watch on her wrist.

"That took a bit longer than I expected. Oh dear," she said.

"I'm sure the others will understand," Chylene replied, sounding a bit unsure as she fiddled with the sides of her yellow dress.

"Probably. Well, I have an idea-do you remember where...oh, what is her name... They call her Scoots?"

"That's her nickname. Her actual name is Sarah," the shy woman tapped her chin, "Um. She might just be at her house..."

"That was my point, darling. Do you know where she lives?"

Chylene blinked. "Oh! Yes, sorry! I can take you there, if you want?"

Rarity shook her head. "We'll save more time if you check on her while I go home and talk to Sweetie. Make sure they haven't slipped off themselves, or see if Alice told them anything."

"Good idea. I'm sure Sweetie knows something. She's such an adorable, well-behaved girl." Chylene looked away for one moment, considering the words she just said.

Under her breath, Rarity muttered, "Yeah, when she's not at home, the little she-beast..."

The animal lover laughed awkwardly. "She's only bad when she's with her friends and that's because they're so excited to see one another."

"Well, regardless, let's get to work, shall we? I'll see you back at the farm tonight, with the others."

Chylene nodded once. "Okay, I'll see you later. Thank you for the fun time out."

"Anytime, Chylene. Good luck!" Rarity called with a wave as she rounded the corner.

Pinkie wiped the sweat from her brow as she entered the Sweet Tooth Bakery. She had searched_everywhere_ for Alice and had found nothing. Well, not entirely nothing. There were a few interesting things to be found in bins and other people's houses. She would have kept looking, were it not for previous obligations.

Outside the building, a white van was running. Pinkie narrowly avoided a tall, freckled man as he rushed to the front door, a stack of boxes in his hands.

"Aah, Pinkie! Thank goodness you're here in time!" he cried as he stumbled out of the door.

"No problem, Mr. Cake! I love looking after the twins and wouldn't miss time with them for the world!" She then turned and successfully weaved around a fairly plump woman with wavy pink hair coming from the kitchen with more boxes.

"Hi, Mrs. Cake!" Pinkie said happily, waving as the woman went past. The baby twins, Percy and Patsy, sat in the middle of the room, laughing at the chaotic nature of their parents' departure.

"Hello, Pinkie..." the baker tiredly answered, putting the boxes in the back of the van.

Pinkie's mouth formed an 'o' shape as she suddenly remembered a vital detail. "Oh! Before I forget, I gotta go to a super awesome party with my friends tomorrow!" At least she didn't have to make as a big a lie as she had just before the Heist. And after.

Mrs. Cake nodded slowly. "Er, okay then." She turned to her husband. "Is that all of them, sugarpie?"

Mr. Cake slammed the rear van doors. "Yep, lovemuffin! Now let's go!" He hurried to the front door and waved to his children, blowing them a kiss. "We won't be long! And remember that Daddy loves you!"

He went back to the van and climbed into the driver's seat, while his wife took her turn at saying goodbyes. "Love you, darlings!" She blew them a kiss then looked at Pinkie. "If anything happens, you know what to do."

The younger woman sternly saluted. "You got it! Now go make the best delivery you can!"

"Um, yes." Mrs. Cake gave Diane a wave then ran to the van, getting in just as it started to drive off. The energetic woman watched them go, then shut the door as they disappeared. She took one look at the twins and sighed, slumping against the door. She wanted to do this, but it felt like it was wrong for her to do so.

The babies ignored her and played with their colorful toys, giving Pinkie some solitude. Those thoughts came to her again: the Heist, her friends, and herself. Behind every bright smile, behind every uplifting song, was a deeply troubled mind. She'd done a lot of thinking, but ironically, she hadn't done much in the way of _talking._

She didn't want to talk...and yet she desperately craved it. Out of all of her friends, she was the spirit. Everyone knew that she could turn any frown upside down, and they depended on that. A sad Pinkie made for a gloomy atmosphere, and no one wanted that.

A moist sensation on her index finger broke her from her trance. She looked down to see Patsy sucking her finger. "No, Patsy," Pinkie said in a calm voice, withdrawing her finger from the child. "No putting things in your mouth that don't belong there. Now...where's your binkie?" The woman turned her body, soon finding a wet and discarded pacifier lying on the floor. It soon found itself in the mercy of Patsy's mouth.

Pinkie folded her arms, her brow furrowed, and looked up. It was a cruel role she found herself in. Everyone needed just that little bit of joy in their lives right now, and who else could provide it than the famous party girl? Her own feelings came second to her friends', but that didn't stop them from eating at her.

She closed her eyes, letting out a defeated sigh. She mulled over the truth many times in her head: she was a murderer. It was a disturbing thought, but it was far from the worst. What scared her was just how easy it was to fire those bullets without even thinking. At the end of the day, she came to one conclusion:

She was Pinkie, but a different Pinkie. A changed Pinkie.

She rested her head on her hand, looking at the twins. After a moment's silence, she spoke, "You guys will listen to me, right?"

The twins turned their heads, gazing at Pinkie with curious faces while spouting out baby gibberish.

"I guess you wouldn't understand anyway." Pinkie scratched her head. "Not even I understand! I feel all confused and stuff inside! I don't feel...um...hmm..." Pinkie tapped the floor repeatedly, concentrating, "Er...right, I guess?"

The babies exchanged glances, then shrugged at the same time.

"I'm just not sure..." the woman trailed off, but after a short silence she raised herself, a big grin on her face. "We need a distraction! And I know just what will cut it!"

She sprinted upstairs and came back down with a microphone stand in less than five seconds. Her plan would chase away the bad thoughts, at least for a bit. The twins took one look at her and facepalmed.

Pinkie pouted, leaning over the microphone. "Aaaw c'mon! I got this new routine I think you'll really dig!"

Rarity shut the door to Carousel Boutique, locking it closed. Her sister had been a dead end, though she did confirm that Alice had talked about leaving. Both her and Sarah had agreed the little Apple's plan was insanely dangerous, even by their normal standards. Which was saying something-Rarity shivered at just the mere memory of the time they decided to experiment with rocketry.

With no other ideas on where to search or whom to ask, Rarity had decided to just catch a taxi back to Sweet Apple Acres. There weren't too many to hail on this side of town, but the tailor never had any troubles when one actually did show up.

Standing alone on the sidewalk, in a part of town mostly devoid of pedestrians, she was an easy find for Spike, who had finally gotten bored sitting at the farmstead. He raised an arm and called out, "Hey! Rarity! Over here!"

Catching sight of him, Rarity smiled, then waved for Spike to join her.

The young man quickly came to the woman's side. "Any luck?"

She gave a small frown and shook her head. "But I did find out that Stephanie didn't go anywhere. And, uh, Sarah is probably still in town as well." Her head jerked slightly as she came to a realization. "Actually, Spike-what are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be at Jack's?"

"Probably," he admitted. "But I couldn't just _sit_ there, you know?" He glanced up at Rarity's face, then quickly looked away. "I mean, if she hasn't been found by now, I don't think we'll..." He shook his head. "No, nevermind. I shouldn't think like that."

Rarity pursed her lips. Finally, she said. "Actually, Spike... I agree with you. But we can't tell the others. You know how hopeful they always are, thinking things will work out for the best."

Spike put a thumb to his mouth and chewed at the nail. After a beat, he spoke again. "Yeah." He looked over the woman ten years his senior and glumly frowned. "No matter how much you hope for something, maybe it just won't come sometimes."

She smiled at him. "You always were so mature for your age, Spike." With a tilt of her head, she asked, "How are you handling all this? I mean...from the robbery to now-all of it."

"One step at a time," he replied, trying to ignore when Rarity said _your age_. "That, and I guess I'm lucky in a way. There's always something that needs listened in on, or, or a component to the computer that needs tweaked-something to focus on."

"You keep yourself busy with other things. I understand. In a way, I think we all have-but the others are a bit more open about how our actions that day have affected us. I felt so...different from them, sometimes. And I'm sad to say I forgot about you. You, who seems to be not quite so different from me."

Spike smiled as he stared up at the woman's eyes. "I don't know about that, Rarity. I mean, you're always so... cool under fire, I guess."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, I don't know, Spike. I seem to remember _some_one who successfully listened in on about a half dozen radio frequencies, keeping us updated and as safe as he possibly could. I count that as pretty 'cool'-don't you?"

He blushed at the compliment, then mentally kicked himself for blushing. There were times when he'd kill to be just a _bit_ less soft. A bit tougher. A bit more like a man Rarity'd like. "I'm, uh, glad I was able to at least give a hand," he managed to stammer out.

"Me, too, Spike." She rubbed at her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps that's it. Why I feel left out sometimes-everyone else has someone they can depend on absolutely. I mean, think of it for a moment." She began counting off. "Jack and Dash would sacrifice the world for one another. Jack has Mac, as well. Twila has her older brother, Lew. Chylene and Pinkie are a little harder but... Well, you know how much Isabelle looks after Chylene. And Pinkie has the Cakes, who've taken her in practically like one of their own." She paused before saying. "There's not really anyone like that for me. No one I can count on above anything...nor anyone who feels that way about me."

"Well, _I_ depend on you," Spike blurted out, then squinted his eyes shut. _Idiot_, he thought. The young lad did a damage control, quickly trying to figure out a way to get the meaning into less dangerous territory. "And I know Stephanie thinks the world of you too."

Rarity thought about the young man's words. All of them, even those she knew he wasn't quite saying. The same words he had always not quite been saying. "That's very... I mean, you're very sweet, Spike. You always have been." She gave him a wicked half smile. "And certainly cute. Oh my, you get cuter every day."

"Cute," he repeated with a frown.

She pushed on his arm. "In a very manly way, obviously." She laughed, then sighed. "Spike, I don't think I can give you what you'd like. I just don't think it would work, considering the circumstances."

He swallowed hard, looking once more at the woman he had pined for ever since he had seen her as a young boy. "No," he disagreed, surprising himself just as much as the violet-haired beauty. "Not when you've never even given me a _chance_." He stood as tall as he could, which wasn't much-Isabelle could claim a few inches on him even. "Come on, Rarity. I-I think you could. I _know_ you could."

She half turned away, looking over him with her peripheral vision. He _was _rather mature for his age-Twila had always suggested that was some trait of the people from the South, though they had never been sure. And yet, in a lot of ways, he was still so young, so naive.

_But he's earnest. He's nothing but himself, and when have you known any man like that?_ she asked herself. _No. Think of the scandal! What would the girls say?_

She went back to her thoughts on the others all having someone to depend on-despite Spike's words, she knew the real truth. Spike had Twila. The brilliant girl had always practically acted like his mother.

That decided it for her.

With a firm shake of the head-though she was careful to not show her slightly teary eyes-she said, "No, Spike. I'm sorry. You're a wonderful young man and a fantastic friend. And I'll envy the girl you meet some day. But I'm not her, I'm sorry."

Spike felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stood, nearly slack-jawed at the rejection. His brows furrowed. "So that's it!? I don't even get a shot? Rarity, that's not even _fair_! All this time and I-" he knew his words were coming out unorganized, nonsensical. It wasn't her fault she didn't...didn't see him that way. But he couldn't help it. It wasn't _right_. Life shouldn't work out like this. "Why can't I get a _break_?!" His voice cracked and he did his best to keep his hurt inside. Even then, it felt like a dam that was nearly bursting.

Rarity told herself the sharply unpleasant feeling she was feeling was her just desserts. Even though she had perfectly legitimate reasons to deny the boy, she honestly wondered what would happen if she simply gave him a chance. Still, she remained silent, keeping herself steadfast.

"You know, the others might be idiots for being so hopeful, but at least they have _something_ to hold on to."

That caused her to wince. She hadn't meant to upset him _that _much. Her mind scrambled, desperate to find any way to salvage the situation. Without bidding, a question arose in her thoughts.

_How much older is Father than Mother again?_

She hadn't thought of that.

She looked at the quiet, but clearly fuming boy-no, young man. She would settle on that. Maybe they were both right-he deserved a chance, and yet, not right now.

Quietly, she ventured, "It's too early to go back in a taxi. But..." She gave him a wink and her best sweet smile. "Since it's just us anyway, would you like to take a walk, Spike?"

It took him a moment to register what she said. When it came to him, he sucked in a breath, trying to calm down. Odds were, she would give him the 'friends' line. But...until she did...he'd enjoy the time with her while he could. While she was still potentially _there. _"Y-yeah," he quietly croaked out, wiping hard at his eyes.

She grabbed his arm and led him down the street. "Oh good," she said quickly, trying to rush beyond Spike's heated words in distraction. "Because I never really get to just talk to you, Spike. So, tell me how you got into computers?"

Spike weakly smiled, slowly returning to normal. "...Well, it's kinda a funny story-remember that owl Twila used to have...?"

The two walked side by side out of town, Spike slowly talking more energetically as Rarity asked more questions and listened intently. Perhaps it wasn't what either of them wanted exactly, but, for now, it was what they had.


	7. Flights and Fights

Eight hours later-or was it ten, she had lost track of time-Twila opened the Apple farmhouse door, trudged to the living room, and collapsed onto the couch. She briefly wondered where Spike was before remembering his earlier call. A cold nose on her neck made her aware of company. Other than the family dog, Winona, she was alone. While they had left together, the girls had split up and agreed to meet back here.

Twila had found nothing of the youngest Apple, Alice.

Her thoughts wouldn't focus, she was so exhausted. She barely managed to lift an arm to scratch the border collie's neck. The house was dark and quiet.

_Guess I'm the first one back, then,_ she idly thought.

"Maybe we should've taken you, Winona," she said quietly. "Probably could've sniffed Alice out, huh?" Her words sounded slightly slurred. In response, Winona simply tilted her head before licking Twila's face.

"Gah!" she cried, sitting up and rubbing the drool off her face.

The sound of the front door snapped her to attention. Jack and Dash came into the living room looking worn and defeated. Winona let out a happy bark and tried to tackle Jack, as she had ever since she was a puppy.

The farmer held her hand out, wordlessly stopping the dog's leaps.

Twila stared for a moment, then blurted, "Any luck?" She mentally smacked herself right after-the two wouldn't look so downtrodden had they found the missing girl.

"N-nah..." Jack morosely said, sucking in a breath.

The door opened once more, bringing in Chylene and Diane. Both seemed to be in the same situation as everyone else.

"Nothing either?" Dash asked.

"N-no," Chylene whispered.

"Nope...it's like she vanished or something!" Pinkie scratched her chin, then suddenly her eyes brightened up and she raised her index finger. "Maybe she figured out how to turn invisible!"

"Pinkie. Not right now," Jack dismissed, irritation seeping into her voice.

"Fuck." Isabelle ran a hand over her sweating brow.

Looking at Chy, Twila asked, "Is Rarity not with you?"

She shook her head. "Um...n-no. After our spa appointment, she told me to come back here. I d-don't know what she's doing."

"A _spa_ appointment?!" Jack snarled, turning to face the woman. She threw her hands out to the side. "Alice could be anywhere and y'all went ta get yer Goddamn _nails_ done?!"

Chy flinched and sputtered, "I t-tried to t-tell her not to b-but...she h-had planned this for a m-month and I didn't want to l-let her down-"

She slammed her fist into the wall, breaking through the plaster. "What 'bout lettin' _me_ down?!" Jack roared, "What 'bout Alice?!"

Chylene flinched away from Jack, beginning to tear up. "I'm s-orry, J-Jack, I'll make it up to you, I-I promise!"

"Chill the fuck out, man," Dash warned, crossing her arms over her breasts. "Girl's already skipped town. Had to of. We searched high and low for her."

"All the more reason we can't jus' sit 'round with a _thumb_ up our asses!" Jack turned, staring daggers at the rainbow-haired woman.

"Hey, isn't that flashing light important?" called Pinkie, her voice sounding far too pleased for the mood of the room. She was pointing at the old phone on the table.

"There's a message," said Twila, rising. She was closest, so she pushed a few buttons and got it playing.

It was Rarity's voice. "Hello, all. Just letting you know, Spike found me after Chylene and I went our separate ways. We're together. I'm sure you're upset, Jack-but I've been waiting on that appointment for over a month! It helps me think and keep a level head-something I'm sure you need right now.

"Anyways, neither Spike nor I found a trace of Alice. I'm going over to Sarah's place-Sweetie is there. I'll make sure they don't know anything and don't try a stunt like this themselves. See you later tonight, darlings. Ta!" The recording stopped with a loud _click_.

"Oh! That makes so much sense!" Pinkie said, giggling. "It'd be real bad if we had _three _silly fillies to go after. Rarity's so smart."

Jack rubbed at her head, tension evident throughout her body. "What the hell do we do?"

Twila weaved her fingers together in concentration. _What would you do, Big Brother? I've made _my _choice but..._

_Well, wasn't that the point? Isn't that how a good leader acts?_ she asked herself.

She nodded and said, "You've got a choice, Jack. The same choice I had to make: The mission. Or your sister."

The farmer looked to the girls in turn. "I-I... _Shit_."

"I know, Jack," Twila said, her words coming out weakly but still solid with truth. "I know. And though we can't all abandon tomorrow's mission-I'm going through with it, despite wanting with all of my being to go after my brother- not a one of us will hold it against you if you decide to go."

Jack frowned. After a beat, she nodded.

Pinkie looked between the two women. "Uh...uh..." She got a panicked look on her face. "I can't cho_ooo_ose! You're both my friends and I wanna help you both but that's impossible 'cause I'm just one Pinkie, but I love you both-and Alice too-and I want to help you both and... Ooooh! Why is this so _hard_!?"

The farmer stared at the woman, unsure what to say either way.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! I'd rather find Alice than hang out with that slimy old Blueblood, blegh!" She stuck out her tongue in disgust. "So I guess I'm with you, Jack!"

"P-Pinkie...this means more ta me than you'll ever know."

Chylene had retreated to the couch and Winona, seemingly oblivious to what was going on. But a careful observer would see her turn to face Jack, worry and her own form of determination in her face. She caught Jack's eye and gave a barely noticeable nod.

Jack offered the smallest of smiles. She could always count on the quiet woman when the shit really hit the fan. She had a chance. They could still find the girl. With Diane, Chylene and...

She turned to look at her partner, desperation quietly etched on her face. Dash seemed to bristle, then deflate.

"Shit, Jack." Isabelle wiped the sweat from her face. "Alice means the world to me-has been ever since I came back with you. You guys are the closest thing I've ever had to family." The tall woman was about to crack a relieved smile, when Dash continued. "But we _can't_ lose this opportunity. The list that Blueblood cocksucker has? It's a once in a lifetime chance, Jack!"

The farmer's irises slowly faded to near pinpricks. "What?" she asked, shocked numb.

Dash's face scrunched up. She swallowed hard, trying her best to keep her composure through the pain she felt in her gut. "Don't look at me like that, man. Don't make me pick between you guys and the damn _country_."

Jack shook her head. Her hands quivered, her eyes burned. A part of her heart felt like it'd been snapped off. "You...Goddamn..._bitch_!" the blonde cried, lunging for the athlete.

Pinkie jumped for Jack, Twila right behind her. Jack was a lot of woman, especially when enraged, but the two barely managed to hold her back, Pinkie gripping an arm and Twila the farmer's waist. But it didn't last long. Jack, tired and afraid for her sister's safety, was angrier than she had ever known. With another loud roar, she pulled even harder, breaking free of her friends' restraints. She stepped forward and reared her fist back.

"_Fuckin' hit me then!_" Isabelle shouted, loud enough to nearly deafen the blond. She stepped forward and stared defiantly at the farmer. "_I know you wanna, so do it! Take the Goddamn swing!_"

Jack clenched her fist tighter, pulled it back a hair farther.

"_Do it!_" Dash screamed, looking diminutive and weak compared to the furious, seething blonde.

Twila stood agape, dumbfounded on what to say. Pinkie looked like she would cry, and Chylene had already started, hands wrapped around Winona's neck as the dog growled, a reaction to the tense atmosphere flooding the room. They could all feel that something was about to break. Though none could've guessed what that would be.

Jack stayed her hand, letting it limply drop to her side. She felt hot tears tears run down her face-she let them silently fall. "W-Why, Dash?"

The athlete wasn't faring much better. Snot ran down her nose and over her lips. She wiped it with the sleeve of her shirt. "You _know_ why, hayseed," she barely managed to choke out. "You guys are the only family I have. You, Alice, an' Mac are the best thing that's _ever_ happend to me. But I-"

"Y-Ya sure know how ta f-fuckin' _show_ it," Jack weakly blubbered, covering her eyes with a hand.

There was a moment of silence. Seeing movement from the doorway, Twila swallowed, saying slowly, "Hi, Mac."

The giant looked at the scene in front of him and cringed. It hurt seeing his sister like that. He could feel his own eyes tear up just looking at how broken Jack and Dash seemed right then. There was only one thing to do. "I'll find her," he simply announced. "Don't y'all worry."

"Mac..." Isabelle trailed off.

"Izzy. Take care of my sister," he said, turning to head down the hall. "I'm gonna go pack."

"Pack? Mac, for all we know, Alice is actually on her way to the Ghost Rim! Do you know what that means?" asked Twila, disbelieving.

"It means I'll need some money fer a train ride," he disinterestedly replied, doing his best to remain aloof.

"But you- It's dan-" Twila sputtered. Running after him, she caught a bit of his shirt, stopping him. She looked up at him pleadingly. "...My brother is down there, Mac. If...if you make it that far... Could you...?" She couldn't finish the request.

"I'm hopin' nobody's that damn foolish, lettin' a girl like Alice near a place like that. But if she _is _there..." He gazed down at the librarian. Macintosh put a strong, calloused hand on her shoulder and slowly nodded once in agreement. "God willin', I'll find him fer ya."

She smiled, tears welling in her eyes. Raising up on tiptoes, she tried to kiss him on the cheek, but managed more of his lower jaw. "You're too tall for your own good."

"Heard that since I was 'bout fourteen." He gently smiled at the woman.

She laughed. "You haven't met Lew. You'll get along, I think." She turned to the still silent Jack. Quietly, she told him, "You better talk to her some more, Mac. You know how she's feeling as well as I do."

At that, the farmer frowned. "I..." he sighed, scratching at his head. "I know. Jus'...I ain't good at that. Normally I let her come ta _me_ if she needs ta..."

"I know," Twila said. "But right now she needs _you_, Mac. Her big brother." She put extra emphasis on those last two words, nodded, then went to check on Chylene.

The farmer sighed. Again. He turned and peaked into the room. "Come here, Jack."

Jack choked out a sob and complacently walked across the room, weakly joining the man out in the hallway. The others heard the steady sound of both of them ascending upstairs.

Isabelle wiped at her eyes and turned, looking towards the hallway. She shook her head with a somber frown. "Me and my fucking mouth."

"It'll be alright, Dash," Twila consoled. "She'll forgive you when she calms down. You know she will." Chylene nodded her assent as well.

"I know, I know." Dash ran a hand through her hair. "I'm gonna give her some space for a while though. Just gonna, uh...hang down in the Hub for a bit."

"C-can I go with you?" asked Chy. "I'm not really tired yet..."

"Yeah, man," Isabelle replied quietly. She headed out of the living room and into the kitchen, the pink-haired woman following behind.

Twila looked at Pinkie, who had taken over playing with Winona. She had a rubber bone from somewhere, and she was making the dog jump for it. Twila was so tired, which made little sense. She suspected it was from her emotional turmoil in effectively abandoning her brother to pirates-though she felt relieved to know Macintosh was going to possibly find him for her.

"I'm going on to bed, Pinkie. Don't stay up too late, OK?"

"OK!" she said, not taking her eyes away from the dog. "Who'sa good girl, who'sa good girl-you are! Yes, Winona, you aaaare!"

Smiling at her friend's antics, she decided to take one of the emergency cots in the Hub. The Apple siblings needed some privacy upstairs, she decided. She hoped Pinkie really didn't stay up too late-and, with that thought, she wondered when Rarity and Spike would be getting back. They all needed as much sleep as they could get.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day for all of them.


	8. An Athlete's Acquisition

Twila had felt it necessary to keep up appearances as much as possible when leaving the orchard. Spike was almost completely confident in his security sweeps, but she'd made mention of "better safe than sorry" more times than she could count.

This meant that both Jack and Isabelle had to leave wearing a gala dress as well.

Jack tromped down the stairs, frowning deeply. As much as she appreciated Rarity making it for her, she couldn't help but feel awkward in the open-armed dress. It wasn't often she wore something that showed how much she 'filled out' a top, but that's not what really embarrassed her. She hated how her arms looked when she wore a dress. Her biceps were too hard and obvious-like most of her body. It was a contradiction in Jack's eyes, something so hard wearing something so soft. The blonde nervously rubbed at the scar on her shoulder as she glanced at everyone present.

The farmer had been the last to get into her dress. Rarity was making her last minute 'frets', as Pinkie always called them. Looking for loose strings here, rubbing out small wrinkles there. Despite the heavy situation, it was somewhat relaxing to see something so obviously normal. At the moment she was focusing on a small tear Winona had put into Chylene's dress.

Diane hopped about, turning from side to side to make her dress sway. It looked as bubbly as her personality was, white with pink, wavy lines going across it. There was also a few sweet decorations dotted around it, which Pinkie had tried to eat before Rarity had scolded her. Suffice to say, the energetic woman was disappointed.

"Looking good, hayseed," Dash said, smoothing out her flowing blue dress. Her dress was simple, but pragmatic and effective. The athlete had little enough to show, but-as Jack well knew-what she could show made up the difference. It was decorated like a storm, all dark up top and leading to bright flashes below with wispy silver trim. She gave a small adjustment to the thundercloud and multichromatic lightning clasp holding her sash.

Jack looked at Isabelle, opened her mouth, then thought better of it, turning towards Twila. "We got everythin' ready ta go'?"

Adjusting her glasses, Twila looked at each of her-the word was so fitting, how could she ignore it?-accomplices. Were they feeling as confident as she? As frayed in the nerves? The night before had been some of the best sleep she'd had in weeks, and yet... There had still been the occasional nightmare. Mostly concerning her brother.

_Guess I'm not quite as strong as I had hoped,_ she thought. _Lew-wherever you are, give me the will to go on._

She caught each woman's eye: Jack-worn, worried, but stoically pushing on; Dash-in control, excited, but the smallest spark of nervousness in her eyes; Pinkie-full of optimism; Chylene-reluctant, with an edge of fear; Rarity-trust, yet questioning, seemingly beset by her own issues. That last especially intrigued Twila-apparently, Rarity and Spike had walked back to Sweet Apple Acres. That was curious.

She shook her head. There was no time for that.

"Well, girls, I think-"

A pair of honks from outside cut her off. She gestured out the door. "There's our rides. Spike, you head on down to the Hub. We'll need you to keep tabs on all radio communication. Dash, Jack, you'll be riding with the rest of us until we reach the separation point. Once there, the mission begins in earnest."

She nodded to Jack. "I want you to head Dagger team, Jack. I'll keep track of Cloak. Codenames at all time except for casual conversation. Well," she swallowed, "shall we head on out?"

"Let's do this thang!" Pinkie cheered, bouncing towards the door. "I think I feel a song coming on!"

The others all sucked in a large breath to voice their disagreements, but another series of much more demanding horns let out.

Rarity, relieved, said, "I do believe they're getting impatient with us-I'm taking the back car!" With that, she went out the front door, faster than any of the others could follow, despite her ridiculously high heels.

Dash looked behind her towards Spike, smirking. "Shame to see her go, but _man_ to watch her leave, right, squirt?"

Twila was surprised when she saw Spike grin and simply nod-normally he blushed and tried to avoid his obvious attentions on Rarity. She was going to have to talk to that boy later. For now, she rolled her eyes and said, "I'll take the front. Good luck, and Spike? We're counting on you."

He smiled and saluted her. "Yes, ma'am! Don't worry, I've got this!"

Dash stepped forward. "You and me in first, Jack?"

"You take first, I'll get second," the farmer disagreed, shaking her head.

Isabelle frowned. "Alright," she neutrally said with a shrug.

"I'll go with you then, Dash," Chylene said, moving next to the athlete.

"Then that settles it. Let's _go_ already," Jack tersely grumbled, moving towards her car.

Pinkie wrapped an arm around Twila, moving them both to the second car. "C'mon, let's go in that one! 'Cause first is the worst!" She giggled brightly.

Knowing Pinkie, Twila didn't try to fight it. She just said, "Uh, OK?" and let the hyper woman take her to the back limo, which Rarity was already climbing into. "I guess you, Chy, and Dash can take the front one, Jack."

"_Hell_ no," the farmer protested. "Fer all I know, we might get inta a wreck-Dash might leave me fer dead."

Sensing a fight coming on, Rarity leaned out and snapped, "We're recognized as close friends to the crown and you're going to make us late! Get in the car already!"

Jack scoffed, heading towards the second car. Pinkie was already inside, making herself comfortable on the leather seats. Chylene timidly approached the first car and carefully went inside, trying to find a seat belt within.

Pinkie having let her go to enter the limo, Twila hurried to the front, scooting in beside Chylene.

"Oh hi, Twila. I thought you were going in the other car," Chylene said as Twila sat down.

She rolled her eyes with a bemused expression, quietly saying, "I'm sure there's some saying about two angry wildcats in a tight metal box, but I'm at a loss."

Her pink-haired friend tilted her head, giving Twila a look that said, _Are you OK?_ A little irritated, she nodded towards Dash as the athlete practically dropped into the limo.

"You know-Rarity will flip if you rip that dress," she told Dash.

Isabelle shrugged, offering a thin, icy smirk. "If she doesn't flip from this, that girl will find _something_ to panic about. So why bother?"

Twila frowned. Dash's temper was different from Jack's. The farmer had a habit of having an initial burst of red hot temper, which burned out rather quickly, though smoldered for a long while after. Dash's, on the other hand, came in fits and spurts. You were never quite sure when she'd gotten over it.

What was more pressing was the fact that the two had to work together through a dangerous robbery.

Carefully, she ventured, "No luck with Jack, huh?"

"It wasn't exactly flowers and puppy dogs out there a second ago, was it?" She joked with that same sly smirk. The woman's expression fell after a beat. She glanced out the window. "Nah. No fuckin' luck." The athlete crossed her arms and sighed. "I've really screwed the pooch on this one."

"Please don't say that, Dash," Chylene pitched in, offering her friend the most caring of smiles, "This is a really tough situation, and you can't really control it...none of us can."

"I know, I know, just... _man_." She offered a small glance Chylene's way. "Been a while since I've seen her this mad." The athlete looked up to the roof. "Not that I blame her, I guess. I am the one who wanted to ditch the kid."

Chylene's voice took on that rare assertiveness. "Don't say it like that! You didn't want to ditch her, you just couldn't abandon the mission. And that's OK. I've known you longer than anyone else here, so believe me when I say that you're not a bad person." She scratched at her long, flowing, yellow dress, going down to the blue butterfly design near the bottom. "We're just in a place that nobody really wants to be right now..."

Twila nodded her agreement. "We all know why you said what you did, Dash. None of us-not even Jack-hold it against you. You wouldn't be _you _without that." She pushed at her glasses in thought. "Normally I'd say to just let time take its course. Jack always comes around, as you know. But...we don't have time for that, unfortunately. After we drop you off, I suggest you just talk to her about it. Get it settled now_._"

Isabelle coldly smirked again. "Poke the fuckin' bear and hope for the best, gotcha."

"If anyone can handle it, Isabelle Apple most certainly can," Twila said, the name a poke to drive Dash on.

"Call me Dash, bookworm-Isabelle sounds like something you'd hear at a fucking tea party." She offered a far more warm smile after a beat. "T-Though Apple's always had a nice ring, you know? Better than whatever the hell was stamped on my papers back at the home."

Twila smiled, turning her attention to a book she had taken out of her purse. "Just a friendly reminder, is all."

"Well, here's my friendly reminder: Don't read while we're riding. I don't want you getting car sick and puking on the apparel. I think that'd piss off Rarity more than a tear," Isabelle advised, giving a small tap to her temple.

"You're confusing me with Chylene again, Dash," Twila said distractedly, leaning back slightly as the limo slowly lurched forward. "It's a five hour drive to Camelot's outskirts." Chylene shuffled in her seat at that, but kept quiet.

Dash crossed her hands behind her head and shut her eyes. "Rest up while you can then, ladies. Gonna be a long night."

Riding close behind, Jack couldn't have imagined getting stuck with a worse pair for a five hour car ride considering her mood.

"Well we don't need Twila in our ride anyway 'cause all she'd probably do is read some boring book on particles or something!" Pinkie rambled, in between her friends and putting an arm around them.

Jack sighed, frowning deeply. She glanced over, only to see Rarity doing the same. Each offered a sympathetic, understanding look to one another. It was one of the few things either had agreed with one another on.

Pinkie didn't register their resentment. "Why are you two so quiet? We gotta open up the champagne! There must be some around in here somewhere..." Pinkie got off her seat and began to crawl around despite her dress, looking for any bottles. Rarity again blessed herself for the forethought of giving Pinkie's dress a tight fitting underskirt.

Jack watched the girl briefly, then reached to her side. The farmer swore under her breath, remembering that her damn dress didn't have pockets, and where she had put her cigarettes. She turned towards the window and reached into her cleavage, producing a pack and a lighter. Jack lit up, taking a deep drag.

"Wha-wha-what?! Put that out, this instant!" cried Rarity, reaching over and trying to knock the offending object outside.

"Jus' tryin' ta relax. Some of us ain't got the time or money ta' hang at a spa an' get our _nails_ done," Jack snapped, scooting as far as she could away from the dressmaker.

Though she wanted to argue, Rarity had felt quite guilty upon hearing how upset Jack had been about her and Chylene's little outing. She crossed her arms under her breasts and let out a small sigh. "Oooh, very well. If you must. But make sure you keep it out the window, please? Cigarette smoke is terribly hard to get out of dresses like these." She turned to look out her own window. "And it's not good for _you_, either," she added quietly.

Jack grunted her consent at Rarity's request, rolling down her window. The breeze whipped her hair and washed over her heavily bronzed skin. "I'mma have ta do things worse fer me than smoke tonight, Rare." Jack replied with a look towards the violet-haired woman, ignoring the churning in her gut at the thought.

"I know, and I don't envy you." Rarity rolled her shoulders a bit, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I think I can speak for the rest of us that what you and Dash will do tonight, in our stead? Well, thank you."

"I got yer back." She briefly ran the cigarette across her nimble and calloused fingers in thought. "Jus' like I thought Izzy had mine."

Suddenly, Pinkie jumped up between the pair, champagne bottle in one hand, a full glass in the other. "Don't be silly, Jackie! Of course Dashie has your back. She super duper really really likes you!" She downed her drink, then became shifty eyed, leaning towards Jack and whispering, "I've seen the pictures on her phone."

"Guess that's why she tossed Alice ta the wolves then," Jack tersely replied.

A little harder than she meant to, Rarity snapped, "You know better than any of us why she's made her choice like she has. But like anytime you get a bad taste in your mouth, you can't see past the red in your eyes." She sniffed. "You'll feel right foolish when your head clears. Besides, Macintosh will most certainly find her."

Jack was about to angrily retort, but sighed deeply instead. Mac said about the same thing the beauty sitting nearby did last night. Talked like Isabelle had to look at the big picture. Jack _knew_ that, deep down. Still didn't stop her from being as pissed off as she'd ever been.

"Mac's gotta find her... He's _gotta_ find her..." Jack quietly said. The blonde took another deep drag from her smoke and let it fly into the air. She tried her best to change the subject. Keeping everyone down wasn't going to change anything. "So, uh, yer both lookin' nice."

Pinkie was struggling to pour her second glass without spilling a drop. It didn't go well. "Thanks! We all look fan dabby dozey!"

Back on familiar ground, Rarity regained some of her composure. She raised her arms to display the lacy sleeves, long for this early in the fall, but thin enough to remain cool. "I'll admit, they're not bad for such short notice. Not my best, but..." She looked at Jack and frowned. "Simple works best for you, so it's the worst shame no one will get to see how fabulous I've made you, dear. I wonder if we'll have occasion to wear something like this again?"

Jack looked at her hands in thought, taking the sentence down a far different route. "I wonder that too."

The sun had nearly set when the two limousines pulled into a mostly empty parking lot on the outskirts of Camelot-crown jewel and capital of the Kingdom of Torani. There was little traffic at this hour this far away from downtown, but the group was taking no chances. Messaging Spike, Twila told them they had arrived.

"One smokescreen, coming up," his voice called over the radio. A few moments later, the lot's street lights all went out, basking the area in complete darkness.

As per the plan, Jack and Dash had changed from their ball dresses. After much deliberation, Twila had felt that the mysterious, suited, masked women terrorists was a good angle to stick with. Though, with more time to prepare, Rarity had once again lent her hand in the design.

Now the suits and masks were one complete piece, completely concealing the wearer underneath. Spike had installed a stronger and less frustratingly noticeable radio transmitter as well. In all honesty, they were 'suits' in looks alone-the fabric was strong but lightweight, cut to fit loosely without sagging. Perfect for quick movements without the restrictions an actual suit would have.

The lot itself was outside one of the larger supply depots in the city. It was a nexus of trade, the hive to the countless transport truck bees that kept the country's economy rolling.

Dash and Jack were going to add Grand Theft Auto to their current list of criminal activities.

Twila and the others wished them the best of luck and, with that, sped off to Blueblood's gala. With the distraction of a job at hand, the pair worked effectively, neither speaking unless needed, but no real heat in their words. When your life hung on the line, it tended to shut down squabbles, at least for a while. Dash knelt down to the attache case and started to take inventory of their supplies, while Jack pressed her set on.

"Checkin' in on my piece, Drake. How's our signal?"

"Loud and clear-as expected," he said, sounding satisfied. "OK, you both remember the building plans we looked over? You're on the northeast side-the small, sewer access you'll want is on the west side. It'll be a tight fit, but will lead you right under the fence, past any security cameras on all the obvious entrances."

"Sounds great, Drake!" Dash chimed in with obvious false enthusiasm. She looked over at the collection of worn, derelict buildings nearby the gated-in shipping depot. "Or, I could skip all that shit and just get the van out here."

"Uh...what?" Spike replied.

Isabelle looked towards Jack. The farmer nodded. "Go fer it. Jus'...be careful."

"Careful's boring," Dash replied with a smirk, running towards the buildings.

As Dash got closer, she looked over the building closest to the fence. It was a worn apartment complex that had seen years without maintenance. The front doors were partially rotted, with obvious signs of someone breaking in. The windows were smashed to hell, jagged pieces of glass in the corners the only testament that they once existed in the black holes of the building.

Dash went to the left of the building, ducking into a narrow alleyway. She glanced at this side of the complex, plotting out her route. Almost right away, she thought about simply climbing the drainage ditch flush against the building, but quickly threw that idea to the side when she saw how corroded the pipe really was-it'd never support her.

Her rose colored eyes caught sight of a partially busted fire escape about twelve or thirteen feet up. She looked left, towards the graffiti stained wall, then looked to the railing on her right. She smirked.

Easy-peasy.

With a quick stretch of her legs, she made a sprint for the wall to her left. She hit the brick with the sole of her shoe, then instantly pushed her body upward, bringing her other foot to the wall. Dash ran vertically a few more steps-as soon as she started to slip, the athlete sprang out, leaping towards the fire escape. She connected, smacking her chest hard against the metal railing. The woman let out a grunt of pain, then hoisted herself up and over.

Dash made her way up the fire escape, the stairs thankfully holding under her.

The slow climb gave her a moment to think. Think about how fucking full-circle things were right now. Here she was, back in Camelot, climbing buildings. Add the voice of Father Mckenzie nagging at her to be careful, and she might as well be thirteen and living at the orphanage again.

"Ya alive?" Jack called in over the set, trying to sound mad but coming across as simply concerned.

"Yeah. Heading up now, sweetheart," Dash confirmed, rubbing at where the bar connected a few minutes ago. Damn thing was gonna leave a bruise.

"Mmm," the farmer grunted, the line going dead once more.

Isabelle smiled. Jack was sorta talking again. That was a step in the right direction, anyway. The rainbow-haired woman laughed, the sound slightly off thanks to her mask. The hayseed was something else, had been ever since they had first met in Manhattan. Granted, it was on less than friendly terms back then, Dash stealing Jack's wallet and all.

Dash shook her head with bemusement at the memory as she rose to the rooftop.

Jack had been _pissed_ when Dash had pick-pocketed her-not that she had blamed the stetson wearing woman, but _man_-and had chased after her all around the city. Jack finally cornered her in an alley. Instead of beating the shit out of her though, the farmer told Dash a story. A story about a girl who's folks had passed on. That girl couldn't stand the farm they had lived on together-it reminded her too much of her family. So she headed to Manhattan with nothing but the clothes on her back, the promise of an aunt and uncle providing a roof over her head, and the cash in her wallet.

Even though Isabelle was hungry-nearly malnourished-she gave the girl her money back. Jack offered to buy Dash lunch-next thing that they knew, they were thick as thieves; a few years down the road, they became something even more.

Dash came to the end of the rooftop and scanned the area. The fence line was about fifteen feet away. Behind the fence was a semi-trailer all but resting against the metal. Dash gave a confident smirk and took a few steps back from the edge. She took a breath and gave herself a moment to get hyped.

Isabelle blasted across the rooftop, her slapping feet matching the throb of her pulse against her temples. She came to the end of the roof and propelled herself over. Her arms pinwheeled as she balanced herself in the air. It was uncanny, the amount of instinct moving her to action. Her body seemed to move itself. She bent her knees and squatted low, impacting the trailer hard. Landing with her feet and rolling forward at an angle, she hit her shoulder then her ass as she let some of the shock of the landing dissipate. Dash came back to her feet and rose to a half-crouch, taking a second to regain her senses.

Isabelle glanced around the empty lot, making sure nobody was coming around to investigate the noise she had made landing. There was a service door straight ahead, across the pavement. Above it were two cameras, each facing the opposite direction.

Isabelle pressed down on her earpiece. "Drake, be my eyes for a sec. It look like anybody coming outside to play?"

"Dead as a doorknob, Bolt. You're good so far," came the reply.

"Swag." She looked across the parking lot, towards the door marked 'employees only'. "Now, I'm at the northwest side of the building. Front's at the northeast. Drake, any way you can reroute the cameras near me to a different feed for a tick? I'll need thirty, forty seconds to get where I need to, tops."

"Give me a second... Yeah, they're tapping into the communal grid, wirelessly transmitting the feed. What a joke." A few seconds of silence. "You've got about thirty seconds, then I'll need about ten more to keep it from looking suspicious."

"Things are looking up," Dash answered, giving a pleased nod.

"Don't think it'll stay that way. _Careful_, sug," Jack quietly said over the radio.

"Yeah, yeah," Isabelle dismissed. "Heard you the first time."

Dash ran like a mad woman across the lot, sprinting for the safety of the camera's blind spot. She dove into the shadows and hugged the wall, scooting across and underneath the lens's field of view. Coming to the door within a moment, she tried the handle. Locked. Not a big surprise. She noticed a box near the door and looked it over. It was an electronic keypad.

The athlete gave a small smile. She had been wanting to try one of Spike's toys he had made for just such an occasion. Isabelle reached into her pocket, producing something that was roughly the size and shape of a fat flashdrive. She twisted the tip of it over to the right, revealing a USB plug, and searched the box.

She found nothing, save for a small, rounded plugin at the top. The athlete flipped the device around, twisting the bottom portion to the left and revealing a tip similar to a headphone jack. The rainbow-haired woman plugged the device in and radioed Spike once more.

"I need a fuckin' ICE breaker, Drake. If you would be so kind."

"That was a bit sooner than I figured," the young man's reply was clearly eager. A small blue light started flashing on the device, quickly at first but it began to slow till it finally stayed on. There was a _click_ sound.

"Got an ETA?"

Before she even finished, the door opened in a short ways. "A gentlemen always gets the door for a lady," Spike said proudly.

"Save that lady crap for Rarity-she might take it as a compliment." Isabelle pulled out a knife and clutched it tightly in her hand as she walked through the door. "Stetson," she called out, speaking as quietly as she could as she walked by dozens of shelves lined with dusty boxes and spare car parts.

"Yeah?" Jack replied over the radio.

Dash bit the bullet. "You wanna talk?"

"About what?" the farmer carefully asked.

"About the motherfuckin' elephant in the room, what else!?" Isabelle said in a harsh whisper.

Too harsh, apparently. She heard the sound of footsteps approaching from up ahead. She swore and quickly ducked behind a palette filled with bottles of motor oil.

"S-someone here?" she heard an old, ancient voice ask. A flashlight cut through the darkness like a knife. His steps clomped closer and closer to where she was.

"What's there to talk about? Ya left my kin ta sin-" Jack started up on the radio. Isabelle quickly killed the feed, hugging tightly against the wall. The light swept across her hiding spot, briefly illuminating her. She held her breath, screaming obscenities in her head.

He wasn't the most astute guard-he pressed on towards the open door Dash entered from. The lithe woman let out a gasp of relief as she went deeper into the complex. She rolled her eyes and pushed the earpiece on again. "Sorry. Had someone try to interrupt. Some people are so rude, y'know?"

A silence. Finally, Jack spoke again. "He hurt ya?"

"Nah, man. I'm fine."

"Then is he...?"

"I'm not taking pot-shots at civs, Stetson. He's fine too," Isabelle argued, finally putting a palm to her mask in exasperation. "Look-I didn't think I'd see anyone, now that I have, this conversation's coming at a bad time, you dig? I'm gonna bust a van outta here-be sure you're ready by the front. We'll talk more face-to-face."

"Roger," the farmer grunted, killing the coms.

Dash opened a set of double doors that led into the garage. They creaked when she went through them-the athlete quickly walked on, listening intently for the guard behind her.

The large and spacious garage was lined with vans and semis, several up on jacks, a few others with their hoods open, being serviced for one reason or another. In the far corner was a flight of metal stairs leading up to an office overseeing the room.

She was just about to swear in frustration once again this night, when she found a van in seemingly good condition. It had four wheels on the ground and its hood shut-a better deal than the others sitting around. She tried the door and was hardly surprised when it was locked.

Just as well, she needed that garage door opened before she could drive the fuckin' thing out of there.

Dash rubbed at her forehead, trying to figure the best way to approach this mess. The mess decided to approach her.

The overhead lights turned on, illuminating the area. Dash swore, quickly squeezing underneath the nearby van.

She heard footsteps and caught three pairs of legs coming from the right of the building. Isabelle's sharp ears picked up another pair coming from her left. She stared up at the guts of the van and listened hard at the conversation the group was having.

"...For the last time, Rumpel, I didn't leave the door open!" a woman's haughty voice complained.

"Well, if _you_ didn't, and _I_ didn't, then that means one of the boys did," the older voice said.

"Not I," the man's voice said, his voice reeking of culture.

"Enope," a southern voice replied. Dash almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation as she hid under the van-it sounded like a near carbon copy of Macintosh's laconic drawl.

"Hmm..." the oldest voice trailed off. He quickly came to a conclusion. "In that case, let's do a sweep of the area: Pattrick, take a round outside. Donnelly, go to the eastern garage. Esther, you take the northern garage. I'll search the offices and freight warehouse. Let's go."

They all vocalized their agreements and split up. The lights eventually flicked off. Even still, Dash lay under the van for a good two minutes afterward. Paranoia could sometimes be a good thing. She finally squeezed her way out and returned to her conundrum. She didn't have an answer for the garage doors yet, but she at least could get the van ready to go.

Heading over to one of the vehicles being worked on, she pulled out her phone. The lithe woman used it like a flashlight, searching underneath the van's hood. With a small, smug nod, she found what she needed and yanked it out. Dash examined the sparkplug in her hand, then dropped it to the ground. Isabelle crunched it underfoot, then searched the remains. The athlete brushed aside a few bits of ruined metal, then came to what she needed-a small bit of porcelain that she carefully picked up between her fingers. It was a little trick she learned back on the streets of Manhattan, when you needed a car but didn't want bloody elbows.

Not that she used the trick.

Often.

Dash pinched her prize between a thumb and finger and approached her target. She threw it through the driver side window and instantly shattered the glass. Isabelle winced at the noise and held her breath, ready to hide at a moment's notice. On hearing no footsteps, Isabelle let out a breath and continued working. She reached into the newly created hole and unlocked the door, being mindful of the glass littering the driver's seat. Dash peeked at the ignition.

_Figures, _she thought with a roll of her rose-colored eyes. _No fuckin' keys._

That was OK, though. She could improvise-Dash wasn't a one-trick pony by any means.

The athlete ducked out of the van, making a mental note to try and find a towel or something. Last thing she needed was glass in her ass.

She snorted slightly at the painfully lame rhyme and took to looking through the room. At the far end of the garage was a workbench, loaded with tools. Dash fished around for just a moment and grabbed a sturdy flathead screwdriver. Pocketing it, the athlete took to searching the room once more for a switch to open the garage shutter.

It dawned on Dash where the switch might be-the overhanging office towards the ceiling probably doubled as a control room for the doors. It was as good of an idea as she could think of at the moment, anyway.

She climbed the metal steps, each movement making a painful echo across the garage, each echo making her painfully aware of the noise she was making. Dash finally reached the top and tried the wooden door. Locked.

"Oh fuck this," Dash said with a brisk shake of her head. She brought her foot forward, busting through the cheap door. That brought a pleasantly surprised smile. Fishing around in the hole she made, she unlocked the door from the other side.

The office was small, a console lined with buttons and switches took up the majority of the room, along with a folding chair and a cup half-filled with forgotten coffee. Isabelle took a moment to examine the device. None of the levers, switches or knobs were marked, aside from cryptic abbreviations that would only help someone trained to work here.

Dash scowled, jamming on her earpiece. "Yo, Stetson?"

"Eyup?"

"Get the gate you're by open. We're gonna have to haul ass."

"What are you planning on do-"

Isabelle killed the coms and looked hard at the console once more. She let her finger slowly trail over the buttons as she muttered under her breath. "Eenie meenie miney moe..."

The athlete turned a knob all the way to the left. One of the semis on a lift dropped, slamming into the floor with a resounding shake. Instantly, the vehicle began blaring its horn-the impact must have lodged the damn thing's switch.

"Fuck!" Dash cried. No way the guards didn't hear that. She had to work fast. She started flicking switches and smashing buttons with wild abandon, dropping cars, turning on one of the industrial fans, activating a speaker, turning on the lights, and at one point starting up a pressurized air hose that flailed and snaked through the air like a drunk ballerina.

"What the hell's goin' on in there, Dash?! Place is lightin' up like a Hearth's Warmin' festival!" Jack exclaimed over the set.

"Ran into a problem! Get your ass ready, I'm coming out hot!" She finally flipped a switch labeled 'B-3,' and the garage shutter directly in front of the van she thought was seaworthy slowly began to slide up, just as the doors directly by the stairway's landing flew open and two scrawny, nervous looking security guards burst into the scene, side-by-side and armed with nine millimeters.

"Fuckin'...fuck...fuck, _fuck_!" Dash eloquently said under her breath, trying to think of the best way to get out. She debated on going for her holstered gun, but just didn't have the heart. These weren't police. These weren't even real guards-they were watching over a glorified warehouse, for crying out loud. She instead hugged against the doorframe and waited, doing her best to hide as the guards climbed up the stairs.

The athlete clenched her hands into fists. She was about to do something stupid. Even-for-her stupid.

_Story of my life,_ Isabelle thought grimly. As soon as she saw a shadow pass into the light spilling into the doorway, she turned and pounced forward, connecting hard with a man's shoulder. They tumbled backward down the stairway, bowling over the other man climbing right behind. The three landed in a heap of splayed limbs at the landing-Dash forced herself up first. Disregarding the other flight of stairs running down, she instead went up and over the guardrail. She landed gracefully on the concrete, just as the double doors across the garage opened, revealing an old, wry man and a young woman. The older clumsily pulled out his pistol.

"Freeze!" he commanded. Like hell she would. Dash lived up to her moniker, sprinting across the lot and diving for the van just as a bullet ripped across the large room, smashing into a calendar hanging on a clipboard.

She opened the van's door and pulled out the screwdriver she had commandeered earlier. The old man sprinted across the lot, followed quickly by the younger woman. Dash pressed the screwdriver in at an angle by the ignition cover. It popped off easily as a familiar voice went across her set.

"Bolt!? What the fuck's goin' on?! I heard a shot!" Jack was in a near panic, Isabelle could hear the farmer breathing heavily on the line.

Dash didn't have time to reassure her. She rammed the screwdriver into the ignition slot and turned with one hand, pulled out her pistol with the other. The engine sputtered, turning over as Isabelle stuck her other hand out the busted window and blindly fired behind.

"Shit!" she heard the old voice say, and felt a slight bump as he dove behind the van, seeking cover from Dash's bullets. Good. That's all she needed, just a few...more...seconds...

The van sputtered and ignited-Dash didn't wait around. She floored it, sending the van shrieking forward like a banshee, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and charred, burned rubber.

"Stetson!" Isabelle barked over the com as she shot across the parking lot. "Get moving!"

Jack stood near the open gate, her body at a cautious half-crouch. Dash noted the revolver in the farmer's hand-odds were, the woman was getting ready to go into the fire herself. Isabelle couldn't help the small smile that sprang from behind her mask-even when she was pissed, Jack wasn't the type to abandon someone. The athlete slammed on the brakes near the other masked woman and briefly slowed the van to a crawl. Jack threw open the door and dived in.

Isabelle slammed her foot down on the pedal, taking off like a bat outta hell.

They went for a few minutes in silence before the adrenaline in Dash's system left and a slow, throbbing pain in her legs began to gradually grow stronger and stronger, eventually bringing tears to Isabelle's eyes.

"F-fuck," Dash panted, visibly shaking. "Can we pull over for a second?" She turned off onto a side road and started to slow down before even finishing the question. Jack gave a concerned look over to the athlete.

They pulled into a deserted lot of what might have once been a mom and pop store. Isabelle stopped the van and got out, hissing sharply as the glass from the broken window crunched underfoot. Jack opened her door and started going around the van.

"Alright, Bolt. What the hell's the pro-" Her words stopped dead in their tracks when she came into full view of the lithe woman. The lamplights lining the street illuminated the sight before her. Glass shards clung tightly to the back of Isabelle's left leg, climbing up her body all the way to her upper thigh. Blood dripped in a slow, steady stream from the numerous cuts and punctures that lined her pants. "W-what the hell happened?"

Dash bit her lip. "Should be obvious, hayseed. Had shit go down before I could clean up the glass. Kinda slipped my mind until it started burning like hell."

"Shit, man. Take off yer pants an' lay down on yer stomach-I'mma get ya patched up."

Isabelle weakly smirked, sweat running down her brow. "H-heh. Get rid of the 'patched up' line, and I'd be in heaven."

Jack reached into a satchel at her side and pulled out a small roll of gauze. "I'mma pull out the glass still stickin' in ya. Probably gonna sting."

"Just as well. We need to ta-" She gasped as Jack's hands brutishly dug into the meat of her upper thigh and pulled out a wide and jagged piece of glass. "Goddamnit. That _hurt_!"

"Sorry," the farmer apologized. "I ain't exactly a licensed nurse like Mouse or nothin'."

"Just be a bit more careful, ok?"

The farmer grunted, working on Dash's leg. The silence eventually got too much for the rainbow-haired woman and she spoke up again.

"You still mad?"

Jack paused at Dash's question, her hand resting on the back of the other woman's knee. "I'm mad as hell," she admitted.

"At me?"

Another considering pause. "A-a little." She breathed out. "But I think I'm jus' pissed at the whole damn thing, ya know? I... I shouldn't have ta choose between somethin' like this an' my flesh an' blood."

Dash winced as the woman pried another piece of glass out. "Man..." she trailed off. "You know why I came here?"

"... 'Cause ya gotta look at the big picture, right?"

Dash nodded as she stared at the road. "Well, yeah. I mean, even Twila was saying that this was a one-shot deal. If me and you had traveled south and searched for Alice, where would that put everyone else? It'd probably be Rarity gettin' glass pulled outta her ass."

"Ta be fair, I ain't found any in yer-wait. I lied." Isabelle made another pained grunt as Jack performed her improvised surgery on the rainbow-haired girl's left cheek.

"F-fuck," Dash swore. Another pregnant pause. Finally, Jack gave a nod of approval.

"Lookin' good. Now, let's get ya up-I gotta gauze ya." The farmer offered her hand. Isabelle quickly took it, letting the blonde hoist her up. She stood, her legs spread apart as Jack quickly worked on bandaging the athlete up.

"Hey..."

"Mmm?" the farmer asked, knelt down and working the bandage around Dash's leg. They were quiet for another moment, each attending their own thoughts.

"Remember back during the car ride after the first one?" Isabelle suddenly spoke up. Jack didn't need clarification.

"Hard ta ferget."

The athlete exhaled and looked down at Jack. "Well, you remember what we agreed to there? About us being the cold ones?"

Jack smiled bitterly and without humor. "Eyup."

"Guess we got our first taste of what that means."

Jack stoically nodded, staring intently at her work. "Reckon so," she agreed. "Thank God fer Mac at least."

"Yeah."

Dash tensed slightly as Jack's hand trailed up a bit too far north. The farmer noticed her mistake and lowered her hand, finishing the wrap job around Dash's muscled thigh.

"Hey, Bolt?"

"Hmm?"

"If it was me gone down south, and you had to choose, would ya come lookin'?"

The rainbow-haired woman sighed. For some reason, she had expected the conversation to turn this direction. "Same shit Alice is in?"

"Eyup."

Isabelle rubbed her neck and stared at the empty street. "Fuck, man. I dunno."

"What's yer gut say?" Jack inquired, looking up to meet Isabelle's face.

Dash flicked her eyes to the farmer. "My gut says you'd want me to do this instead. To keep truckin' on-make sure the big picture's taken care of. Make sure our friends are safe..."

The blonde nodded, tying off the last of her bandages and rising. "Yer right." She adjusted the mask on her face. "I mean, I know _why_ ya said what ya said back there at the house but...still pissed me off."

"Guess I'm the asshole of the group," the athlete casually said, smiling weakly.

Jack snorted, handing Isabelle's pants back. "Yer _my_ asshole though. Don't forget that."

Dash paused. Her lips quirked into a pseudo-smirk. "Not sure how I should take that, hayseed."

The farmer raised her brow. After a moment, a small snicker of laugher passed her lips. It turned into a hearty, gut-busting guffaw. Dash cracked a grin, then couldn't help herself and joined in, both leaning on one another for support as they tried desperately to draw breath.

"Yer somethin', Izzy. Ain't sure _what_, but somethin'."

"Just shut up with this sappy shit-we got a job to do." She smirked, donning her pants and returning to the van. She swept it clear of glass with the sleeve of her jacket and hopped in. As soon as the door shut, the weight of what they were about to do again hit them, dispelling their brief respite from this nightmare with the finality of a closing book.

"Maybe we'll be lucky. Might be mostly electronic-isn't that what Drake said? W-we might be able to avoid the guards," Dash offered, starting the van.

Jack's brow narrowed grimly as she felt for the weight of the iron piece resting in her side-holster. "We'll do what we have ta," she said, as they took off down the street, repeating a mantra both of them had been forced to use far too often these days.


End file.
